


Twisted: Book Two

by Catalina21



Series: Twisted [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Child Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter is a girl, Internalized Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Rape, sad but with happy parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25468093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catalina21/pseuds/Catalina21
Summary: Aimee is back at the Dursleys after her first year at Hogwarts when she runs into a familiar face. What journey will her second year at Hogwarts bring?
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Petunia Evans Dursley/Vernon Dursley
Series: Twisted [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1411915
Comments: 59
Kudos: 69





	1. It was nice...

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! If you're here, I'm assuming you've read the first story I wrote, and liked it, so I hope you enjoy this one, too! This is my version of Aimee's second year at Hogwarts.
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING**
> 
> This story does consist of child abuse and rape.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognize, all those rights go to JKR :)

“Last stop; Welbude!” the conductor’s voice crackles over the intercom. I jerk upright.

“Excuse me?” I ask the woman next to me. “Did he say Welbude?” The woman nods.

“Did we pass your stop, miss?” she inquires. I shake my head.

“No, I just- I thought this went all the way to Little Whinging.” The woman frowns.

“I’m afraid there’s no station in Little Whinging. Welbude is the closest one.” I nod, trying to stamp down the fear tearing through my heart. I don’t have enough Muggle money left for a cab, and I know there aren’t any buses running at this time of night.

The train slows to a stop and the doors whisk open. The few people left in this car stand and make their way to the exit. After a moment of hesitation, I grab my trunk and follow them.

The station is almost deserted, so nobody sees as I snatch a map from a small stand near the ticket booth. 

It takes four wrong turns and a strange encounter with a raccoon, but finally Privet Drive comes into view. My legs are on fire and my arms are shaking from the exertion of holding up my trunk. Why can’t the wizards who make these things put a Lightening Charm on it, or at least _something_ to make the past three and a half hours less hellish? For Merlin’s sake, even simple wheels would do! I mean, they’re _wizards_. From what I’ve seen, there’s not much that magic can’t accomplish. 

I set my trunk down on the front stoop with a soft ‘oof.’ The house is completely dark. Not even Dudley’s T.V. is on. It must be _late_ late. There’s no point in knocking, then. No one’s awake, and I’ll just make more trouble for myself if I cause Vernon to lose sleep. With another sigh, I fall back on my trunk and lean against the house. Might as well get some shut-eye while I can.

It might be about all I get this summer, anyway. I'm sure Petunia has already compiled a list of what chores need to be done tomorrow.

The sun is already shining brightly by the time the front door creaks open.

“Oh. You’re back.” Petunia’s voice filters into my consciousness, and I slowly open my eyes. I can already feel a nasty crick forming in the side of my neck.

“Well? Get inside, girl, before the neighbors see you!” My muscles ache as I hurriedly stand up and grab my luggage. Petunia snatches the trunk from me as soon as we’re in the door. 

“I’ll be locking this upstairs. If I see you doing any funny business, that stick will be the first to go.” My heart thuds wildly when I realize she means my wand.

And so it begins. My summer of fun.

“Freak!” I groan and roll over. It isn’t even seven thirty yet.

“Coming, Aunt Petunia!” I shout, hurriedly changing into a clean shirt and shorts. Aunt Petunia is waiting in the kitchen, hands on her hips.

“We are having the neighbors over for dinner tonight.” she says. “I left you a list of groceries. You mustn’t mess this up, girl, or there’ll be hell to pay.” I nod silently. I’ve ‘messed up’ enough times to know she isn’t lying.

Despite the heat, and being away from Hogwarts, this summer is easily the best one of my life, at least so far. Dudley squeaks and runs from the room each time he sees me, and Vernon hasn’t laid a hand on me, at least not yet. Petunia is the only one who will even speak to me, and that’s solely to give me a lecture about my freakishness, or to give me a list of chores.

It’s wonderful. And I hate it.

Ron and Hermione haven’t written me once, and even Hagrid hasn’t sent anything. I knew when I met them- when we started to become friends- they would forget about me eventually; they’d stop caring and move on to better things, but… I just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Or for it to hurt so bad.

I sigh internally and retrieve the bacon and eggs from the fridge to start breakfast. One thing that certainly didn’t change while I was at Hogwarts is Dudley’s appetite. Sometimes I swear that boy is an actual living, breathing pig. An image of Vernon’s face appears in my mind, and I snort. I suppose Dudley does have some pig blood in him.

Vernon clumps into the kitchen pointedly not looking at me. 

“Good morning, Uncle Vernon,” I say. He doesn’t even grunt in greeting as he grabs the remote and sits down heavily on the sofa.

“Where’s my breakfast?” he demands.

“Almost ready, Uncle Vernon, sir,” I say just loud enough to be heard, which, as I’ve learned, is always the proper volume with which to address Vernon. He grunts. I flip the bacon one more time and spoon it onto a plate.

“Here you are, Uncle Vernon, sir,” I bring Vernon the plate of food. Like usual, I start to head back to my cupboard, but Vernon stops me.

“I assume Petunia told you about dinner?” I nod, keeping my eyes trained on the flowery carpet.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’d better not mess this up, girl, or I’ll have to remind you how we handle freaks in this house.” I gulp, my heart beating rapidly.

“Yes, sir. I won’t, sir.” Vernon nods sharply.

“Good. Now get back to that blasted cupboard of yours.” I scurry back to the safety of my cupboard. That’s the most Vernon has said to me this summer, and it’s unsettling.

Vernon leaves for work an hour later, kissing Petunia on the cheek and shouting a goodbye to Dudley. Once the door slams shut, I run a comb through my hair and grab the grocery list Petunia left on the counter.

The Sauce ‘N’ Spice Grocer is almost empty at 8:30 a.m. on a Wednesday. I smile at Bert, the cashier, and he gives a friendly wave back. He’s one of the only people in the neighborhood who still looks at me. Apparently, Petunia fed the neighbors some obtuse story about how I was sent to the Miss Agnes School for Delinquent Girls. The worst part is that everyone believes it.

I grab a cart and head straight for the back of the store. A girl with long brown hair is grabbing a tub of ice cream from the freezer. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on where I’ve seen her. I grab a carton of 2% milk from the fridge and set it in the cart. The brown haired girl shuts the freezer door and flips her hair over her shoulder. 

“No freakin’ way. Aimee?” I whip around. Now that she’s facing me, I can recognize the dark-haired girl easily. 

“Lucy,” I breathe. Lucy bounds forward and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug, ice cream lying forgotten on the floor. Spending a year living with Hermione must have rubbed off on me; I don’t even flinch.

“Oh God,” she whispers. “Where the hell did you run off to last year? I almost went mad with worry!” I pull back and wipe away my tears before they can fall. Relief floods through me because she remembers me. _Lucy_ _remembers_ _me_.

“I’m sorry,” I say. Lucy punches me lightly on the shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid,” she says. 

“Sorry,” I repeat, not really sure how I’m being stupid, but earning myself another punch to the shoulder.

“When both you and your cousin failed to show up at Stonewall, I panicked. I thought you might be dead!” she says earnestly. 

“Why would you think I was dead?” I ask. Lucy shrugs.

“Oh, I don’t know. You weren’t at school, and I didn’t know where you lived, or how to contact you!” I laugh.

“You’re such a drama queen!” I exclaim. “I could’ve just moved! Or switched schools!” Lucy hugs me again.

“God, I missed you,” she whispers sincerely.

“I missed you too,” I reply. “Your hair has gotten so long.”

“Eh, I think I want to chop it all off. But look at you! You’ve gotten so tall!” Lucy laughs. “I sound like my grandma.” she says. I laugh, too, unsure of what else to do. 

“So? Where were you?” I wrap my arms around myself, hugging my stomach.

“Would you believe me if I said the Miss Agnes School for Delinquent Girls?” Lucy gives me a look.

“Not when you say it like that,” she retaliates. “As if I would believe that anyway. Why would you go there?” I shrug.

“It’s what my aunt has been telling people.” Lucy frowns.

“Well _is_ it true?” she asks. I shrug.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Lucy crosses her arms.

“So no. It’s not. Why is your aunt spreading rumors about you going to some reform school?” I look down at my toes.

“Because she doesn’t want people to know the truth.” Lucy leans in, her forehead just inches from mine.

“And what’s the truth?” she asks quietly. I lean in, too.

“I’m a genius,” I whisper in her ear. “I’m too smart for regular people school.” And I burst out laughing. It feels almost cathartic.

“Hey!” Bert shouts, cutting off our laughter. “You there, the girl with Aimee! Either buy the ice cream or put it back in the freezer!” Lucy looks down at the forgotten ice cream and picks it up.

“Right, sorry!” she shouts back. She puts it back in the freezer and takes another of the same flavor. “You melt it, you buy it, huh?” I laugh and glance at the ice cream in her hands.

“Funky Trod.” I say. “Any particular reason you’re buying a gallon of ice cream at 9am? And why that particular flavor? It sounds… interesting.” Lucy smiles.

“Oh it’s for my brother. He was in one of those moods, you know? One where the only solution is to consume a big ol’ tub of ice cream.” I _don’t_ know, but I nod anyway.

“Wow,” I say. “You’re a good sister.” Lucy smiles.

“Sometimes,” she says ominously. The bell at the entrance of the store rings, signaling a new customer’s arrival.

“Oh, hey, Mrs. Dawson,” Lucy says with a smile and a wave. Mrs. Dawson frowns.

“Lucy, I thought you knew better than to hang around with ragabash like her,” she gestures to me and I feel my face heat up. “I’ll be telling your mother about this.”

“Tell my mother what you want, Mrs. Dawson. Aimee is my friend.” Mrs. Dawson just shakes her head and moves to the other end of the store. 

“Lila Dawson,” Lucy mutters. “She lives down the street from me. Nosy bitch. Can’t keep her ears to herself.” 

“She’d get along great with my aunt.” I say.

“Okay, are you ever going to tell me where you really were last year? And why your aunt likes to spread horrid rumors?” 

“I need to finish shopping,” I ignore Lucy, grabbing a box of Chocolate-O’s off the nearest shelf to prove my point.

“Okay. I’ll help you. Then we’ll talk. What do you need?” 

“So you decided to buy the ice cream,” Bert says as Lucy checks out. She nods cheerily. Bert bags her ice cream and starts scanning my items.

“That’ll come out to $55.62,” he says. I pull out the money from Petunia and hand it to Bert.

“Er- Aimee, you’re about five bucks short.” I pat my pockets for more money, but come up empty.

“Bugger,” I swear. “What if you took off the apples?” Bert starts to press a couple buttons on the computer screen when Lucy jumps in.

“Hey, I can pay for it.” she says, holding out a five dollar bill. I push her money back. Petunia always looks at the receipt. She’ll wonder where I got the extra money, and that would… end poorly.

“Without the apples, Bert?” I ask again, more insistently this time. He shakes his head.

“Three dollars short.” Lucy tries to hand me her money again.

“Aimee, really. I can pay for it. It’s no big deal.” Again, I push her money away.

“It’s a big deal to me, Lucy,” I say. Then to Bert, “Without the second loaf of bread?” He presses some more keys and nods.

“Alright, you’re good.” I thank him and grab the bagged groceries. 

Petunia might not care that I didn’t get the apples or the second loaf of bread, but those are my two main food groups at the Dursleys’. No one in the house eats fruit, and bread is cheap. If I buy extra, there’s always some left over, even if it has a little bit of mold. Mrs. Dawson gives me one more glare as we exit the store.

“Here Aimee, let me take some of those,” Lucy offers, sliding two of the grocery bags off my arms and onto her own.

“Oh,” I say. “Thanks,” Lucy nods.

“Don’t worry about it. You looked like you were about to collapse. So, do you live around here, then?” I nod.

“Yeah, on Privet Drive, that way.” I point in the direction of number 4.

“No way! I live just along Magnolia Crescent!”

“Oh,” I say. “You don’t have to walk me back then, we’ll pass your place soon.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got all the time in the world. It _is_ summer, you know.” I smile.

“Okay,” I reply brightly.

“I should probably drop this ice cream off, though, before it melts.” I nod.

“Okay,” I agree. We walk in silence for a few minutes, but it’s a nice silence, not awkward at all.

“Do you want to come in?” Lucy asks when we stop in front of number 14. I shake my head, imagining Petunia’s reaction if she finds out I interacted with neighbors. 

“That’s okay. I can just wait out here.” 

“Oh, all right then, if you’re sure.” Lucy sets down my groceries and hurries through the front door. She’s back within a minute, and as we walk away, I see the face of a little boy peering out the front window.

“Thanks for carrying these,” I reiterate. “You really don’t have to,” Lucy just shrugs in that nonchalant way of hers.

“Aimee, I swear to all that is holy that if you thank me one more _sodding_ time, I will prevent you from carrying groceries for the rest of your life.” I laugh.

“Is that all you could come up with?” I ask. “Carrying my groceries forever?” Lucy grins.

“Don’t test me. I’m a woman of my word.” We turn on to Privet Drive, and I can feel my heart beating a little faster.

“This is me,” I say anxiously when we reach number 4. 

“Ooh, I love your garden,” Lucy compliments and I smile. I’ve worked so hard on those flowers; it’s nice to get some praise every once in a while. 

“Thanks,” I reply, blushing. 

“Do you need help unpacking your groceries?” Lucy questions. I shake my head frantically.

“NO!” I almost shout. Lucy looks shocked, and I wince. I didn’t mean that to come out so harsh.

“Sorry,” I say. “My aunt’s home. She can help.” She can, but she won’t.

“Oh,” Lucy says. “Okay, then. Here,” She hands me the bags she was carrying.

“Listen, are you free tomorrow?” I shake my head.

“No.” I say. Lucy frowns sadly.

“Oh,” she responds, looking rather downtrodden. I take a deep breath. 

“What about Friday? The Dursleys are going to visit Dudley’s Aunt Marge, so they’ll be gone.” Lucy brightens.

“Oh, brilliant! Would you like to come to my house?” I hesitate. The Dursleys have always said I shouldn’t be in other people’s houses, I shouldn’t infect them with my freakishness. But at Hogwarts I learned that the Dursleys aren’t right about everything. So maybe… it’s okay?

“Er- sure,” I concede. “Yeah, okay. What time?”

“Eleven? My sister should be home by then, so I won’t have to babysit.” I nod.

“Merlin, how many siblings do you have?” I ask. Lucy looks at me strangely when I say ‘Merlin,’ and I remember that’s just a wizard thing. I make a mental note to watch what I say more carefully from now on.

“Five.” Lucy says. “Three older, two younger.”

“Crikey, Lucy!” I exclaim. “That’s a lot of kids. My friend Ron has five older brothers, and a younger sister. He-” I stop. Talking about Ron is painful.

“And… how do you know Ron?” Lucy inquires sneakily. “Maybe at this mysterious school you go to?” I shake my head and start walking to the front door. 

“Bye, Lucy,” I say. “I’ll see you Friday,” Lucy grins and waves brightly before walking back to her own house.

Dudley walks into the kitchen as I’m unloading the groceries. He stops when he sees me and turns to run out of the room, but I stop him.

“Wait, Dudley.” He freezes; like a deer caught in headlights. “Calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He relaxes ever so slightly and turns to face me. He stands there, eyes cast downward, while I unpack the groceries. The silence is almost unbearable.

“Why do you hate me?” I ask on a sudden impulse. The million dollar question I’ve wanted to ask for years. Even I can hear the raw emotion in my voice. I can never be good enough, not even for stupid, fat ass Dudley. 

“I- er- I just came for a snack,” he says slowly. I sigh. I should’ve known I could never have a real conversation with my cousin.

“Right. Well, I’ll make you a sandwich once I’m done unpacking these groceries.” I turn back to the bag, setting the loaf of bread on the counter.

“I- er- I don’t hate you.” Dudley states timidly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“You- You don’t?” I ask incredulously.

“Well- I don’t know. Mum and Dad say you’re a freak. But, you know, I was at Smeltings most of the year,” I snort, remembering how enamored Dudley was with that stupid Smeltings stick. The smile falls off my face when I remember how Vernon liked it, too.

“And… Well… Maybe Mum and Dad aren’t right about everything.” I almost drop the carton of eggs in shock. Is this really Dudley standing in front of me, or just someone spelled to look like him?

“Dudley, are you feeling alright?” I ask. “Maybe I should make you a sandwich, and you can lie down-” 

“I feel fine, Aimee,” Dudley says. And he looks like he might say more given the chance, but at that moment, Petunia enters the kitchen.

“Good, you’re back. Make me some chamomile tea. I have a horrid headache.” I barely hold back a sigh as I grab a pot to start heating the water.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” I reply obediently. Dudley gives me one more look before following his mother out of the room. 

I finish unpacking the groceries as I wait for the tea. Once it’s done, I carefully pour the liquid into a teacup and bring it to the sitting room.

The phone rings from the kitchen as I hand Petunia the cup. I don’t move, waiting to be dismissed.

“Well, freak? Why aren’t you getting that?” 

“Sorry, ma’am,” I say, hurrying from the room and grabbing the phone from the wall.

“Dursley residence,” I say.

“Hi, this is Melissa Stevens,” A nasally female voice sounds across the line. “Is Dudley there?” I frown. Who in their right mind would be calling for Dudley?

“Er- hold on a second,” I answer, setting the phone down. 

“Dudley?” I call, walking back to the living room. “There’s someone on the phone for you. She says her name’s Melissa.” Dudley’s face reddens as Petunia whips her head around to look at him.

“Aw, my baby Diddykins is all grown up,” she squeals, reaching over and giving Dudley a big smooch on the cheek. “Has a girlfriend and everything.” I put a hand up to my mouth, trying my very best not to laugh. Dudley pushes Petunia gently back to her side of the couch and stands up, a great effort for his stubby little legs.

“Muuum,” he groans. “She’s not my girlfriend.” Petunia seems close to tears.

“Oh, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she argues happily. If possible, Dudley’s face turns even redder. He chooses to remain silent and follows me to the phone instead.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need help working the buttons. I know phones can be complicated.” I smirk, leaving Dudley with his new mystery girl.

The day passes in a blur. As I do my chores in a daze, my thoughts remain stuck on Lucy. She remembers me! And, not only that, but she still wants to be my friend! 

That’s more than I can say for Ron and Hermione, at least. I still can’t believe I haven’t heard from them all summer. Maybe they were expecting me to write first? But Ron has Hedwig! I angrily wipe away tears from my eyes and tear a weed from the ground. 

No one wants to be around a freak like me. And can you blame them? I wouldn’t want to be friends with me, either! I yank a few more weeds from the garden before falling back on my haunches. I take a deep breath; trying to calm my harsh breathing.

“Freak!” I blink away the moisture in my eyes. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stop crying?

“Coming, Aunt Petunia,” I sigh, throwing the weeds into a bucket near the garden shed and wiping my hands on Dudley’s old shorts. 

Aunt Petunia is waiting in the kitchen, hands on her hips. 

“Our guests will be arriving in an hour. You’ll do well to have dinner ready by then.” My jaw drops open.

“An hour? But, Aunt Petunia, that’s not enough-” 

“Quiet, girl! If I say you’ll have dinner ready in an hour, then you’ll _have dinner ready in an hour_!” I swallow.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” I say in a subdued voice.

“Good. Now, get on with it.” I hurry to the kitchen cabinets, feeling like I’m on a much more stressful version of those baking shows Petunia pretends to watch.

Fifty minutes later, a gorgeous shepherd's pie and a pan of brownies sit stoically on the counter. I wipe the sweat off my forehead, smiling. I can’t help but be proud of my work. Petunia walks into the kitchen, frowning.

“What are you doing, girl? This place is a mess!” My shoulders sag.

“Sorry, Aunt Petunia,” I say. Would it really hurt to get some recognition?

“This better be clean by the time our guests arrive!” Petunia snaps with pursed lips.

“Which should be any minute!” Vernon adds his two cents from the doorway. I don’t remember hearing him get home, but I suppose it _is_ almost seven.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon, sir, Aunt Petunia.” I hurriedly turn back to the kitchen. Oh, for Merlin’s sake! It isn’t even that bad! But instead of making a comment I know will get me in trouble, I grab a cloth and start to wipe down the counters without a word.

The doorbell rings at exactly seven. Typical. Vernon would make a fuss if they were early, and Petunia would throw a tantrum if they were late. Dudley would eat the pudding either way. Vernon grabs the collar of my shirt.

“Get in the cupboard, girl! And if I hear a peep from you, _one word,_ I swear you’ll wish you’d never been born!” Vernon may be a coward when faced with magic, but he sure can be scary when he wants. The lock clicks as my cupboard door slams shut.

“Hi, Petunia, Vernon,” a vaguely familiar voice greets the Dursleys. “Oh, and Dudley. Look at you! You look so grown up in that suit! Oh, how precious!” I frown. I swear I’ve heard that voice before.

“It’s a pleasure to have you, Mrs. Dawson, Mr. Dawson,” Dudley says in a sickly sweet voice. My heart stops. _Dawson_? As in Mrs. Dawson, Lucy’s neighbor?

“Oh, please, darling, call me Lila.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... that's the first chapter! I swear I rewrote this chapter five times before finding a way to start the story that satisfied me. Please let me know if I made any grammar/spelling mistakes and I'll try to fix them right away, and it would be wonderful if you could leave kudos or a comment! I always love to know what people think of my work.  
> Stay healthy :)  
> Catalina


	2. ...And then it wasn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter definitely took me longer than I thought it would, but here it is. I planned on posting it earlier, but I've been out of town for a few days. Enjoy!
> 
> I also want to thank my amazing friend KT, who has been giving me advice and helping me edit. Thank you!

“Oh, please, darling, call me Lila.” 

Bollocks. Oh, bloody hell, I’m done for! No way is Mrs. Dawson going to keep quiet about seeing me with Lucy!

“It was so kind of you to invite us over, Petunia,” a deeper voice sounds. Mr. Dawson. 

“Oh, it was our pleasure. Why don’t you come into the living room? Dudley will take your coats.” I hear steps walking by my cupboard, and when the voices speak again they’re much quieter.

“Did you hear about the young lady who just moved into number 10?” Mrs. Dawson asks.

“Oh, yes. Emily Day, is it? I heard she just had a baby,” Petunia replies eagerly, relishing the opportunity for gossip. I guess I was right when I told Lucy that Mrs. Dawson would get along splendidly with Petunia.

“She did. I heard it was out of wed, and the father had been having an affair with his secretary. It was a whole big thing over in Grand William Park. That’s where she’s from, you know.”

“Ah, yes, that’s what Maryam said. I don’t know what that poor girl is thinking, raising a child alone. She needs to find a good husband and settle down; like a proper lady would.” I frown. That seems a little misogynistic. And hypocritical. I wouldn’t say Vernon is a ‘good husband.’ A sadistic pig, yes, but not anywhere near what a good husband should be.

“I can only imagine how that poor child is going to turn out. He’ll be some sort of criminal, I’d wager, growing up without a father like that. I guess some just can’t be helped.” Vernon’s voice interrupts the conversation; blocking the voices of Petunia and Mrs. Dawson.

“Would you like a beer, Miles? Or some whiskey?” I don’t hear Mr. Dawson’s response, but feet soon come clumping heavily past my cupboard, heading into the kitchen. 

“-at the store today.” Mrs. Dawson is saying. I freeze. Maybe they’re talking about something else?

 _Please don’t be talking about me._ I pray. _Please don’t be talking about me._

“Yes, I sent her to fetch the groceries.” Petunia pauses, then lowers her voice. “She didn’t… _steal_ anything, did she?” There goes that hope.

“No, no, darling. Well, not that I know of, at least. She was talking with one of Edy Browne’s kids; Lucy.” Well that’s it. I’m done for. Thanks a lot, Mrs. Dawson. Petunia sucks in a breath.

“And when I confronted her,” Mrs. Dawson continues, “Lucy had the audacity to say the girls were friends!” Petunia sucks in an even harsher breath.

“That can’t be true! Are you sure it was Potter?”

“I’m certain. Oh, Petunia, I’m sorry. You don’t know how it pains me to tell you this. But I think you need to keep a tighter leash on that girl. Keep her inside more, use proper discipline. I always say, it can’t hurt to use a firm hand once in a while. Not, of course, that I’m blaming you, but this neighborhood doesn’t need any more hoodlums.” Any more? Little Whinging is easily one of the richest, safest neighborhoods in all of Surrey! 

Mrs. Dawson continues, “Don’t you remember when Lilith Jones found Maryam’s daughter smoking marijuana with her boyfriend? Maryam couldn’t show her face for months! It would be a tragedy if your niece brought the same shame upon your family.” Vernon’s footsteps clump past my cupboard again, blocking Petunia’s response, but I know Mrs. Dawson’s words have gotten to her. Petunia cares about her reputation more than anything in the world. If I were to ruin it for her… I shudder.

“What are you two ladies chattering about?” Vernon asks, the couch creaking as he sits down.

“Lila saw the _freak_ talking to Edy Browne’s girl at Sauce ‘N’ Spice today!” Petunia hisses. I press myself back against the wall of my cupboard, which suddenly feels very small. There’s nowhere for me to go. I’m stuck here, waiting for the Dawsons to leave so Vernon can let me out and enforce whatever punishment he sees fit. 

My breathing quickens, and I focus on taking deep breaths to slow it.

_Come on, Aimee. Calm down._

Three counts in through the nose, four out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with the girl. You’ll tell us if she bothers you again?” Vernon is saying.

“Of course.” Mrs. Dawson says. I imagine her voice would sound reassuring to most people, but to me it sounds like a death sentence.

“As my wife said; don’t be afraid to use a firm hand when disciplining her. Sometimes that’s the best way to deal with a girl like that.” Mr. Dawson adds and I shiver, goosebumps forming up and down my arms. I can imagine the gleeful smile spreading across Vernon’s face, knowing that someone agrees with his… methods.

I tune out the voices for the rest of the evening. I’ve heard the important part. I know I’m in trouble. And I couldn’t care less about Dudley’s new favorite video game, or Grunnings’ latest drill model.

Instead, I pass the time by braiding, unbraiding, and re-braiding my hair. 

“It was just _lovely_ to have you,” Petunia says in a sickly sweet voice, startling me out of my 18th re-braid.

“Oh, we had a wonderful time.” Mrs. Dawson replies. The cheeriness in her voice makes me sick. 

Doesn’t she know what’s going to happen as soon as her car is out of sight? 

That she’s practically walked me to my execution and slipped the noose around my neck?

“We _must_ go to tea soon. I know the best little place in George Heights. They opened just a fortnight ago, and their earl grey is _divine_.” Mrs. Dawson gives Petunia a peck on the cheek.

“Vernon,” Mr. Dawson says, clapping Vernon on the back. 

“Good to see you, Miles,” Vernon says in return, opening the door to show the Dawsons out. 

And then they’re gone. Only a few moments pass before my cupboard door slams open.

“Girl!” Vernon roars, grabbing my hair and yanking me into the hallway. I guess he’s gotten over his fear of magic, then.

“I’m sorry!” I plead. Always better to apologize beforehand.

“What have you been telling that poor girl? Did you tell her about your freakishness?” I shake my head frantically. Vernon tightens his hold on my hair and I let out a whimper.

“No, Uncle Vernon, I swear! I didn’t tell her anything!” Vernon slams my head hard against the wall, causing stars to fill my eyes. The edge of my vision is peppered with black spots and I barely register Petunia ushering Dudley from the room. I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t want my kid to see this, either. Vernon lands a hard kick to my ribs, and I curl in on myself. It hurts. It hurts so bad.

Please make it stop.

Just, please, make it stop.

I wake up in my cupboard, some time later. My head is pounding, a sharp pain pierces my ribs as I breathe, and, without even looking, I can tell my ankle is bent at a funny angle. Bloody hell. And this summer had gotten off to such a decent start!

I raise my arms above my head, pleased to see I can at least move them painlessly. I reach down to place my hand on my ankle, trying not to cringe where I can feel the bone bent unnaturally.

 _Please heal._ I think. _For the love of Merlin, please heal._

And then the tingly feeling from last summer is back. The bones shift themselves under my touch, and I’m left with my hand on a perfectly normal, healed ankle.

Brilliant.

“Potter!” No, no no no no! Not now! “Freak! I can hear you moving around in there!” I sigh internally.

“Coming, Aunt Petunia.” I sit up, and almost fall right back down. Stars fill my vision, and all the blood rushes to my head. Mother of Merlin. I haven’t felt this bad in ages. Petunia raps her knuckles on the door again.

“Girl!” she shrieks. I hold back a groan, and crawl from the cupboard.

“Sorry, Aunt Petunia,” I say. My head is throbbing, and I can’t take more than a shallow breath. 

“Duddy needs lunch.” Petunia snaps, before walking off to the sitting room. 

“Duddy needs his lunch,” I mutter under my breath. “Duddy needs his toys. Do Duddy’s laundry before he gets home. Duddy this, Duddy that. Duddy can make his own bloody lunch, for all I care.”

“Hi, Dudley,” I greet politely as I enter the kitchen. The boy in question is sitting at the counter, drinking from a 2-liter bottle of Fanta. He doesn’t answer, just looks me over warily.

“Sandwich?” I ask, holding a hand over my ribs. Dudley nods slowly and I frown. Usually my cousin would use this time to take a jab at me, or escape to a different room. He’s doing neither. I hesitate, unable to stop myself from staring at the light-haired boy.

“Is-” I begin, wincing as I take a deep breath. “Is everything alright?” Dudley’s head whips up faster than a Nimbus 2000.

“W-what?” he sputters. My face heats up. This was a stupid idea.

“Sorry, I- it’s stupid. Never mind. I’ll make your sandwich now.” I turn away from my gaping cousin, keeping a hand on my ribs. It really does hurt to breathe. 

Silence falls over the kitchen, and I can feel Dudley’s eyes boring into the back of my head. He doesn’t say anything though, so I continue to make his sandwich in peace.

“How are you walking?” Dudley asks suddenly. I freeze.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Your ankle! I mean, like, your bone was completely out of place! It- er- it wasn’t pretty.” I think this might be the most Dudley has ever spoken to me in one go. And now I’m wishing he would just leave me alone.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I state quietly. “My ankle’s fine. See?” I take a couple steps and roll both ankles to prove my point. 

“But- Dad, he-” I plate Dudley’s sandwich and slide it across the counter.

“Dudley, I’m fine,” I say forcefully. “And I need to go do laundry, now. Excuse me.” Petunia will kill me if she ever finds out I spoke to her Ickle Diddykins in such a way, but right now I can’t bring myself to care. 

I can’t let Dudley find out I did magic.

Two hours and four loads of laundry later, my head is pounding and nausea keeps stabbing at my insides. I go into the kitchen, thinking maybe I can sneak a glass of water, an apple if I’m lucky, but Petunia is already there, making herself some tea.

“Oh, good. You’re here.” I hold back a sigh. Yes, I’m here. Bloody hell, I am _always here_.

“Is there something you need, Aunt Petunia?” I ask in the politest tone I can muster.

“We’re leaving in an hour. Dudley’s things need to be packed and ready before then.” I nod.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” I say obediently.

Dudley is sitting on his bed when I get upstairs, staring impassively out the window. Odd.

“Er- your mum told me to pack your stuff.” Dudley turns around to face me.

“Oh, right,” he grunts. “Do you- er- want me to help?” I stare. 

“Why are you being so… nice?” I ask. “I mean, for my entire life, you’ve _despised_ me, and now… you want to help me _pack_?” Dudley blushes.

“Well… I… er-” He pauses. “I made some new friends at Smeltings.” he begins carefully. I nod, grabbing a duffel bag from the closet.

“They’re, well, they’re _nice_. And I’m… not.” That’s the understatement of the year.

“What about Piers?”

“We’re still friends. Not like last year, though.” I fold and pack four pairs of pants. I’m surprised Dudley isn’t embarrassed about me going through his stuff like this. I suppose he’s used to it after ten years of having me as an unpaid personal assistant.

“I learned a bunch of stuff about- about being nice, and- and, you know.” I snort. That’s Dudley for you. Eloquent as always. I stand up, the fully packed duffel in my hands. A wave of nausea hits me anew, and I double over.

“Aimee?” Dudley asks, concern in his voice for the first time, well, ever. I put a hand on the bedpost to steady myself, but it does nothing for the nausea. Dammit.

I drop Dudley’s bag and sprint to the bathroom. I barely register the shouts of “Freak” and “Potter,” instead vomiting my guts into the toilet bowl. Petunia is standing in the doorway as I sit up, a disgusted look on her face. I stand up slowly, almost not daring to look her in the eyes. She raises her hand high above her head.

I don’t even register what’s happening until a sharp stinging pain fills my cheek. I stay still, knowing things are always worse when I show weakness.

“Get this cleaned up before we go.” Petunia says, gesturing to the vomit that didn’t quite make it to the toilet. And then she’s gone. I rinse out my mouth quickly, and take a look in the mirror for the first time today. A bruise has formed just under my right eye, and I can see the beginning of a hand-shaped mark appearing on my cheek. I sigh and turn to the mess by the toilet. 

_You get to see Lucy tomorrow._ I tell myself. _You only have to last until then._

“Get down here!” Vernon doesn’t even bother to address me. The Dursleys are standing by the front door, packed duffels lying on the floor next to them.

“Take these to the car, girl,” Vernon orders. I obey immediately, grabbing all three bags in one hand, using the other to open the door. Vernon and Petunia slide into the front of the car, while Dudley wriggles his fat bottom into the back seat. As soon as I close the trunk, Vernon starts the car, backing out of the driveway and speeding down the street. I have to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.

I allow myself a little smile. It’s going to be nice to have a Dursley-free weekend. 

_I still can’t believe they’re letting me stay in the house alone_ , I think as I twist the doorknob and push inward. The door doesn’t budge. I try twisting and pushing again, but to no avail. 

The bloody bastards _aren’t_ letting me stay in the house alone. They’ve locked me out! I walk around to the backyard, thinking, _hoping_ , Petunia forgot to lock the back door. But no, this one is shut just as tightly as the front! I sit down on the grass and pound my fists into the ground, causing pain to shoot through my ribs. Right. Forgot about that.

With a motion I’m getting all too familiar with, I place my hands on my ribs. After the tingling dissipates, I take a nice deep breath. Who knew breathing could feel so wonderful? 

Now for my head. I’m certain Vernon gave me a concussion, but I don’t know how to heal that. It’s not really _bone_ , is it? And so far, I’ve only used my… my _powers_ to heal broken bones. Worth a shot, though, I suppose.

Like always, I just place my hands over my head, and will my concussion to heal. 

Nothing happens. No tingles, no snaps, no feeling of any kind. Bugger. Maybe I have to be more specific? I don’t know all that much about concussions, so I just silently think about curing this horrid headache. 

Still nothing. Sodding hell. 

I move my hands to the bruise beneath my eye. Once again, no tingles, no nothing. Maybe I can only heal bone-related injuries? I’ve only really dealt with my ribs and ankles, anyway. Vernon usually stays away from my face and arms, because injuries there are harder to hide.

I wander over to the garden shed. Darkness is falling and, well, it’s better than the grass. Rearranging some gardening supplies on the floor, I make room to lay down and use an old tarp as a makeshift pillow. I curl into a ball, sleep overtaking my conscious immediately.

_“Oi, Aimee! Over here!” Ron shouts in a singsong voice as an image of a sunny forest begins to form in my head._

_“You’d better watch out! I’m coming for you!” I reply, laughing. Ron darts out from behind a tree and scurries to hide behind another one. I run after him, my right hand outstretched. However, just before I touch his shoulder, Ron moves just out of reach, laughing wildly._

_“Come on, you can do better than that!” he taunts. I jump forward, just barely touching his shoulder before he leaps out of reach once more._

_“Ha!” I shout. “Gotcha! You’re it!” Ron stomps his foot and curses, but runs off behind another tree._

_“Hermione! You’re next!” he shouts, and I laugh brightly, sprinting away from the direction Ron just ran in. The trees start off bright and far apart, but the farther I get, the darker the forest becomes. Soon, the trees are so close together that not a single drop of sunlight filters through. I slow down to a walk, squinting to make out the shapes of the trees in the darkness._

_Something hits the back of my head, and a cold, wet substance dribbles down my shirt. I whip my head around, to see Draco Malfoy standing in a brightly lit clearing that definitely wasn’t there before. He has a wild grin on his face, and is holding a tightly packed snowball. He lobs it toward me, and I shriek as it hits me right in the stomach._

_“Ohhhh, I’m gonna get you!” I shout, scooping up my own snowball from the suddenly wintry forest. I throw the ball and it hits Draco square in the chest, sending him sprawling across the wet ground._

_“You’ll pay for that!” he threatens, but his eyes are bright and his lips show a hint of a smile. He’s already starting to pack another snowball._

_“Aimee!” Hermione screams from somewhere behind me. “Aimee, you have to help! He’s going to kill me!” I turn around, and suddenly the snowy forest is gone, replaced with the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Quirrell is standing next to his desk, his wand at Hermione’s throat. His face contorts into an evil smile just as a bright green spell shoots from his wand._

_“NOOOO!”_

I leap to my feet, glancing frantically around the shed.

“It’s just a dream,” I tell myself. “Calm down, Aimee, it was just a dream. You’re being stupid.” I let out a breath and roll my shoulders back. 

Outside the garden shed, the sun shines brightly. I wince as the pounding in my head goes up a notch. 

Fortunately, Petunia left the kitchen curtains open, which means I can see how the oven clock reads 9:30 a.m. Holy Merlin! I slept for 13 hours! The wonders a concussion can do for your sleep, huh?

I chuckle lightly at my own joke and take a seat on the grass. My stomach grumbles with hunger and my throat aches with thirst. I stand up again. The park has public water fountains. And bathrooms. Maybe I can clean up a bit before going to Lucy’s; make myself look presentable.

The three block walk to the park drags on in the heat. Even in the morning the temperature must reach above 80℉. The park is empty except for a young woman sitting on the bench by the water fountain. She has dirty blonde hair falling just past her chin and is rocking a light-haired baby in her arms. I smile politely at the woman as I bend down to drink from the spout. Cool, cold water fills my mouth and it’s all I can do to stop myself from moaning with pleasure. 

I drink and drink until the cramps in my stomach prevent me from drinking any more. I slump down on the bench- a decent way away from the woman and her child- and close my eyes. 

“Excuse me,” the woman begins. I open my eyes, jumping off the bench. My head pounds horribly.

“I- I’m sorry,” I stutter. “I’ll go somewhere else,” I haven’t even taken a step away from the benches when a hand grabs my wrist.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” The woman pulls me back down to the bench. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” I stare at her. 

“I- I’m sorry?”

“I mean, that must really hurt,” she gestures to my right eye. “Are you alright?” I touch the skin beneath my eye. Right. The bruise.

“Oh,” I laugh lightly. “This. You should see the other guy.” The woman doesn’t look convinced. 

“You should really get some ice on that,” she urges. “And, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m Emily. Emily Day.” Miss Day holds out her hand, and I shake. This is the woman Petunia and Mrs. Dawson were gossiping about the other night!

“Aimee,” I respond in turn.

“Nice to meet you, Aimee. This little guy is Jason. Say hi, Jason!” The baby in her lap giggles.

“Hi,” he chirps brightly. 

“Hi,” I reply, smiling. He’s a really cute baby.

“But back to your eye! I mean, what happened?” I fiddle with the hem of my shirt.

“Fist fight,” I say, not meeting Miss Day’s eyes.

“Huh,” is all she says. “Are you sure?” This time I do meet her eyes.

“I’m sure.” I reiterate steadily. Part of me is yelling, _screaming,_ for me to tell her the truth. _My uncle hits me!_ The words are right on the tip of my tongue. But I can’t do it. My primary school teachers didn’t believe me, so why should this woman I barely know?

“You really should go home and put some ice on that,” she urges indignantly. “Do you live nearby?” I shrug.

“Around there,” I reply, pointing away from Privet Drive. Miss Day stands up, settling Jason on her hip.

“Well, I can walk you home. Jason’s getting a little restless, anyway.” I shoot out of my seat, ignoring the pounding in my skull.

“No!” I blurt. Miss Day frowns. “I mean, you don’t have to do that. I… kinda don’t want my parents to know about this,” I point to the bruise on my face and give my best attempt at a sheepish smile. Miss Day sits back down.

“Oh, all right. I mean, if you’re sure.” I nod.

“Yeah.” I take another long drink from the fountain before sitting back down. The sun beats down on my face, but it feels rather nice. I close my eyes and lean back, listening to Jason babble in his mother’s lap.

I don’t even realize I’ve fallen asleep until a loud wail wakes me.

“Shhh, shhh, Jason, it’s okay,” Miss Day has stood up and is bouncing Jason up and down on her hip, trying to get him to calm down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Aimee, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she frets apologetically. I shrug.

“It’s alright. Any longer and I’d have gotten a nasty crick in my neck, anyway,” Miss Day smiles distractedly, still trying to get Jason to quiet down.

“I think he’s hungry. It was nice to meet you, Aimee,” she says, shifting Jason to one hand and holding out the other.

“You too, Miss Day.” I reply, shaking Miss Day’s hand hesitantly. 

“Oh, call me Emily, dear.” she urges. I nod hesitantly.

“Er- okay. Thanks… Emily. You wouldn’t happen to know what time it is, do you?” The older woman pulls a cell phone from her pocket.

“Almost 10:20,” she says. “I’m sorry, I really should get going. Are you going to be alright?” I smile, thinking about Lucy.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Have a nice day.” Emily smiles kindly, and walks off in the direction of Privet Drive, her bag slung over one arm and Jason in the other. I sigh. Forty more minutes.

Not many people stop by the park in those forty minutes, but those that do turn away quickly when they see me. Before walking to Lucy’s, I stop in the public restrooms to splash water on my face and see if I can make myself presentable. Unfortunately, the bruise under my eye is still a dark purplish blue, and no amount of water is going to fix that. I tie the bottom of my shirt into a little knot, the way I’ve seen Lucy do, with the intention of making the shirt appear like it’s only two sizes too big instead of four. I’m probably half successful.

Lucy’s house looks exactly the same as all the others in Little Whinging. And yet, something is a little different about it. A little more… electrifying. A blue Razor scooter is lying haphazardly in the grass, and a Frisbee is resting peacefully on the front stoop. The grass is a little overgrown, but the window boxes are filled with lovely white and pink geraniums. I take a deep breath as I step up to the door. It’s just Lucy. Why am I so nervous? The door opens before I even knock.

“Aimee!” Lucy exclaims. “You’re earl- What the hell happened to your face?” I touch my cheek subconsciously.

“Oh, that.” I laugh nervously. “I ran into a door. Well, Dudley ran a door into me. I was hit by him with the door.” I shake my head, realizing I’m babbling. Lucy looks at me strangely.

“Dudley opened a door into my face.” I say after a deep breath. “It’s really not as bad as it looks, I swear.” Lucy stares for another moment, then steps aside and holds the door open.

“Come on in,” she motions, still staring at my eye. “Do you want some ice for that? It’ll help decrease the swelling.” I shrug.

“Er- okay. Why not. Thanks.” Lucy leads me into the kitchen and digs in the freezer for an ice pack. 

“Thanks,” I repeat, holding it against my cheek. I have to admit, it feels quite wonderful.

“Wanna go up to my room?” Lucy asks. I nod and she leads me towards the staircase. About halfway up the stairs, I almost run smack into a girl coming the opposite way. My first thought is that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She wears her brown hair- just shades darker than Lucy’s- tucked into a bun that is somehow both messy and elegant. Her eyes are a dark chocolatey brown, and she’s wearing a loose tank top with the words ‘I put the Bi in Bitch’ in pink, blue, and purple letters.

My second thought is she looks a lot like Lucy.

“This is my sister, Ledecky,” Lucy introduces, gesturing to the girl.

“Hi. What happened to your face?” Ledecky asks, causing a crimson blush to spread across my cheeks. Lucy slaps her sister across the shoulder.

“Don’t be such a bitch,” she reprimands. Ledecky frowns, glancing down at her shirt.

“The irony is palpable.” she says, grinning. Lucy just rolls her eyes.

“Ledecky, this is Aimee.” I smile and hold out my hand for a shake, removing the ice pack from my face as I do. Ledecky’s jaw drops.

“Well spit on my neck and call me a Muggle,” she says. “You’re Aimee Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly got stuck writing this chapter, but I hope you guys liked it anyway! I'm sorry, I know it's another cliffhanger, but I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as I can.  
> As you probably noticed, I mentioned a couple towns/cities that aren't canonically in the HP series. JK never really gave us that much info about Little Whinging or the surrounding area, so I kinda made it up for myself. I imagine Little Whinging as basically all residential. George Heights is a neighboring town with more shops and more of a touristy location. Welbude, as I mentioned in the first chapter, is basically one of the bigger cities in Surrey, which is why it has a train station and Little Whinging doesn't. In the next couple chapters, I will also mention a West Pond, which is basically just a couple streets of shops, grocery stores, that kind of thing.  
> Stay healthy :)  
> Catalina


	3. Lucy

“Well spit on my neck and call me a Muggle,” she says. “You’re Aimee Potter.”

“E- Excuse me?” I sputter in disbelief. Ledecky shakes her head as if to clear it.

“Sorry. You wouldn’t know me. I graduated Hogwarts the year before you started.” I look between her and Lucy, who is just standing there, staring at me.

“Wait, you went to Hogwarts?” I turn to Lucy. “Do you go there, too?” I immediately kick myself for asking that. Of course Lucy doesn’t go to Hogwarts! We’d be in the same year! Lucy startles.

“What? Oh, no, I go to Stonewall.” I look back at Ledecky.

“But you went to Hogwarts? Are you a witch?” Another stupid question. Of course she’s a witch! Muggles aren’t just randomly enrolled in magical schools!

“I am a witch,” Ledecky replies, laughing. I’m not quite sure what she finds funny about this situation. Her laugh tinkers out as she sees my face.

“Aimee, you look like you’re going to pass out. Why don’t we go to the sitting room?” I nod weakly and follow the two sisters through the house. Not even ten seconds after we sit down, a boy with sand colored hair runs into the room.

“Ledecky,” he whines. “Axel-” He doesn’t get to finish whatever he was going to say about Axel, because Lucy cuts him off.

“Bugger off, Arlo,” she says. “Can’t you see we’re busy?” Arlo ducks his head.

“Sorry, Lucy,” he apologizes before running out of the room.

“Lucy,” Ledecky scolds. “Be nice to your brother.” Lucy just rolls her eyes.

“Anyway,” Ledecky says. “I’m a witch. Muggleborn, obviously, but still a witch. So far I’m the only one in the family, despite how much Lucy wanted to get her letter last year.” I grin, remembering the thrill of going to Diagon Alley with Hagrid.

“Like I said, I’m clearly a Muggleborn-” Ledecky continues, “-and I only graduated two years ago, so I didn’t really know about the whole ‘You-Know-Who’ thing until I started Hogwarts. I _do_ remember when you defeated him, though. I was in my second year. The teachers hosted a massive party in the Great Hall to celebrate. Oh, did you know you’re mentioned in both _Modern Magical History_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_?” I blush.

“Er- yeah. I’ve never read them, but my friend Hermione told me.” Ledecky beams.

“Oh, I can’t believe  _ the _ Aimee Potter is my baby sister’s best friend!” she gushes. My blush deepens.

“Alright, Ledecky, you’ve had your fun.” Lucy’s face is tinged pink, too. “Aimee, let’s go upstairs.” I nod.

“It was nice to meet you,” I say to Ledecky as we leave the room.

Lucy’s room is painted a light green with white trim along the walls and doorway. There’s a small alcove on the far side of the room where a small desk rests beneath two windows, and a pair of twin beds sit on opposite sides of the room. A poster with an image of a blonde woman framing her face with her hands is taped to the wall above the right bed. ‘Madonna’ is written in block letters across the top, and ‘Vogue’ is in a curlier font at the bottom.

“Okay, so holy  _ shit _ .” Lucy starts once her bedroom door is closed. “You’re  _ the _ Aimee Potter? I always just thought that was a coincidence.” I shrug.

“That’s me.” I say. “Aimee Potter.” Even to myself I sound exhausted. Being Aimee Potter is a full time job.

“Not one for fame, are you?” Lucy asks, laughing and taking a seat on the left bed. Little flowers are drawn in light grey pencil by the headboard, and a myriad of Polaroid pictures are stuck to the wall with push pins. Most are of Lucy and people who are all clearly related to her, but a few contain other people, more around our age. A girl with blonde hair and blue eyes seems to show up a lot, as does a boy with dark hair and glasses. They must be Lucy’s friends from Stonewall. I sit down on the bed, curling my legs beneath my body.

“Not really. I actually didn’t even know I was famous before I went to Hogwarts. The Dursleys never told me I was a witch.” Lucy’s mouth falls open.

“Your aunt and uncle never said anything?” I shake my head.

“Petunia and Vernon aren’t big on magic.” I snort. “In fact, magic might be the thing they hate most of all.” Lucy opens her mouth to respond, when a small, dark-haired girl runs in, Arlo following not far behind. The two look so similar, they can’t be anything but twins.

“Doodles,” the girl whines. “Arlo stole Sir Snugglebug!” Doodles?

“Did not!” Arlo whines.

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!” Lucy throws up her hands.

“You two are impossible! Talk t _ o Ledecky _ !  _ She’s _ the one babysitting you, not me! I’ve got company, can’t you see?” The twins stare for a few moments before Arlo comes up to me and holds out his hand.

“I’m Arlo.” he says. “I’m seven.” I smile and shake his hand.

“Hi Arlo,” I reply. “I’m Aimee. I’m eleven.” Arlo beams as the girl steps forward.

“Axel,” she says. “My mum thought she was having two boys, and she didn’t feel like coming up with another name when I was born. I’m four minutes older than him.” Here she jabs her thumb at Arlo, who crosses his arms and harrumphs.

“ _ Barely _ !” he protests, and I smile.

“Well it was nice to meet you, too,” I say. “And I think Axel is a wonderful name.” Axel blushes.

“Oh, you’ve had your fun,” Lucy says. “Now, shoo, you little rascals!” Although the words are harsh, Lucy’s smiling and there’s no real bite to her words. Axel and Arlo seem to remember their ‘Sir Snugglebug’ dilemma, and run down the hall shouting for Ledecky.

“So, those are the twins,” Lucy says.

“Doodles?” I question. Lucy laughs.

“Oh, that’s what my siblings call me.” she explains. 

“How did that start?” Lucy shrugs.

“I honestly don’t remember, it’s been so long.” she explains.

“Well, the twins seem nice,” I offer.

“Oh, don’t be fooled by their cute faces. The two of them can be real pests if they put their mind to it.” I laugh. They sound a lot like a pair of red headed twins I know.

“You’re good with them, though,” she says, watching me intently. I snort.

“You got that from a thirty second interaction?” I ask in disbelief. Lucy shrugs.

“Like I said, they can be real pests. I mean, the last time they ‘greeted’ one of my friends, she went home with a melted chocolate bar in the pocket of her white pants. The twins usually take time to warm up to people. You’re just unusually charismatic.” I blush.

“Er- thanks,” I say awkwardly. Lucy smiles, and there’s a slight pause in conversation. “Wait. They put  _ melted chocolate _ in her pocket?” I ask, Lucy’s words finally catching up to me.

“They did!” she exclaims. “I’m not joking!” We laugh, and it feels so good, so completely carefree and wonderful that I never want to leave this moment. Right now I’m not worried about the Dursleys, or spending the weekend in the garden shed, or how I haven’t received a letter from Ron or Hermione all summer and will probably have no friends when I go back to school. I stop laughing.

“You alright?” Lucy asks, concern coloring her tone. I smile, but it feels strained.

“Can I use your bathroom?” I ask.

“Yeah, of course! It’s right down the hall on the right.” I smile my thanks and stand up, but fall right back down as my head starts to pound horribly. Stars fill my vision as I sink to the ground.

“Shit, Aimee, are you okay?” I grab my head, as if pressure will stop the pain. Nausea fills my stomach.

“Owwww,” I hear myself groan, but it sounds muffled and far away.

“Ledecky!” I barely register Lucy yelling for her sister. It’s all I can do to not throw up.

“What happened, Lucy?”

“I don’t know! She tried to stand up but fell back down and grabbed her head! Can’t you do something?” The voices still sound muffled, but less so. 

“Wait here, I have a headache potion in my room.” I take one of the hands off my head and use it to push myself into a sitting position. 

“I-I’m fine,” I stutter. “S-sorry, that was an overreaction.” My words come out strained and tense.

“Aimee, what-” Ledecky runs back into the room.

“Drink this,” she shoves a vial into my hands, which I eye warily. “It’s a headache potion.” Ledecky says by way of explanation. I push the vial back to Ledecky.

“I don’t need it,” I argue, my head still pounding. “I’m fine.” Both sisters stare at me, not saying a word.

“Seriously,” I insist. “I-” Another bout of nausea overtakes me and I clutch my stomach.

“I think she has a concussion.” Ledecky murmurs to Lucy. “I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t have a concussion. Seriously, Lucy, I’m fine,” I make a move to stand up but Lucy pushes me right back onto the bed.

“Sit your butt down.” she says with a tone of authority. I open my mouth to protest when a loud crash comes from downstairs. I jump, but Lucy just smiles knowingly. A moment later Ledecky reappears in the doorway, a young, androgynous looking woman with bubblegum pink hair not far behind. 

“This is Tonks,” she says. “She has a little more experience with medical stuff because she’s training to become an Auror.” At my confused look, Tonks speaks up.

“Like wizard police. We fight Dark witches and wizards.” I nod my understanding. “Anyway, Led told me you have a concussion?” I shake my head frantically, ignoring the pain the motion brings.

“I’m fine,” I insist again. “I just have a headache, that’s all.” Tonks smirks.

“I’m sure you do. That’s one hell of a shiner.” she says, pointing to my eye. I blush, and hold the lukewarm ice pack up to my face.

“I ran into a door,” I explain. Tonks frowns.

“That musta been one hell of a door to give you such a concussion! Why haven’t you gone to the doctor yet?” I fiddle with the hem of my shirt, blushing.

“I told you I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion.” This time it’s Lucy who frowns.

“Aimee, you’re clearly not fine. Just listen to Tonks. Let her help.” she says. I shoot her a glare but she just shrugs.

“Here, drink this,” Tonks says, pulling a vial from the pocket of her robes. It’s filled with a murky yellow potion.

“I really am fine,” I say unconvincingly, once again resisting the urge to throw up. Tonks forces the vial into my hand.

“Oh, drink the damn thing, Potter,” she orders. “Even if you are  _ fine _ , it won’t hurt.” I stare at the potion in my hand, eventually conceding and downing it in one gulp. I have to resist the urge to spit it right back out.

“Ugh,” I say in disgust. “That tastes like old cheese and dirty socks.” The other three in the room laugh.

“Are you feeling any better, Aimee?” Lucy asks. I pause. The pounding has faded from my head and I no longer feel the need to hurl my guts into the nearest toilet. 

“Er- yeah. Thank you,” I say sheepishly. Tonks winks.

“That’s what I thought. I’ve got a bruise salve for that eye, too.” She hands me a jar filled with some sort of blue cream. “Just put this on your eye each night for a couple days, and you’ll be in tip top shape before you can say ‘Quidditch.’” I take the jar and smile softly.

“Thanks.” I say. “You really didn’t have to,” Tonks shrugs.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s a simple potion. I have plenty.” she smirks. “Besides, this was a chance to meet the famous Aimee Potter.” I blush crimson and look down at my hands.

“Oh.” I say. She only came because of who I am.

“Oh shit, no, that’s not what I meant,” Tonks says. “I’m sorry. I’m not just here to meet you. I would do this for any friend of Led's.” Lucy laughs. 

“Oh yeah, because there are so many of those.” she says sardonically. Ledecky shoves Lucy playfully in response.

“Shut up,” she says lightly. Tonks ignores the sisters and instead turns to me.

“It was nice to meet you, Aimee,” she says, flashing me a genuine smile.

“You, too.” I say. “Thanks for the potion. And the salve.” I hold up the jar of bruise salve.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m a total klutz; I have plenty of that stuff lying around.” Ledecky turns to leave the room but Tonks hangs back.

“I do have one question for you,” she says. I feel my heartbeat speed up slightly, as it always does when someone has to ‘ask me a question.’ “Charlie Weasley said you and his little brother had an illegal dragon last year. Is that true, or is he just pulling my leg?” I breathe a sigh of relief. That’s not so bad. I can answer that.

“Oh. Yeah, we did. It was Hagrid’s, but it was getting too big for his hut so we had to get rid of it.” Lucy stares at me in awe.

“You are  _ so _ going to have to tell me that story.” I blush.

“It’s not that big of a deal. How do you know Charlie?” I ask Tonks.

“Oh, Led and I went to school with him. We were in the same year. You’re friends with Ron, right?” I nod.

“Yeah. At least, I think so.”

“You think so?” I shrug.

“I haven’t heard from him all summer.” Ledecky frowns at that.

“Well that’s odd.” she says. “Charlie says Ron’s been trying to get ahold of you all summer, but hasn’t heard anything. Apparently he’s wound himself into a knot with worry.” I frown.

“I haven’t gotten any letters.” A beeping sound comes from inside Tonks’ robes, and she pulls out a Muggle watch.

“Oh, bugger. I’ve got to go. Listen, Aimee, I’ll talk to Charlie. And it was good to meet you. I’m glad you’re not the stuck up celebrity I thought you’d be. Bye, Led, Lucy,” she says, leaning in to give Ledecky a quick hug then hurrying from the room. The sound of little kids arguing comes from down the hallway and Ledecky sighs.

“And that’s my cue.” she says. “Have fun, you two. Let me know if you leave the house.” And then Lucy and I are alone again.

“Wanna go to the park?” Lucy asks.

“Yeah, sure, if you want to.” I answer. Lucy grins and pulls me off the bed. 

“Er-” I say, holding up the ice pack. “What should I do with this?”

“Just leave it on the bed. You can leave the salve here, too, and grab it later.” I do as Lucy says and she leads me from the room, her hand still in mine.

“Ledecky!” Lucy shouts as we walk down the stairs. “We’re going to the park!” 

“Bring sunscreen!” Ledecky shouts back. Lucy groans good naturedly, and grabs a bottle of sunblock from the counter. She lets go of my hand to open the door, and I find myself missing its warmth. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. It’s unnatural to have those kinds of thoughts. I frown subconsciously.

“Are you alright?” Lucy asks. “You look like you’re thinking really, really hard.” I shake my head one more time and shrug.

“No, I’m fine.” Lucy gives me one last look before shrugging as well.

“Okay, weirdo. Anyway, you  _ have _ to tell me that dragon story.” I smile.

“I’m telling you, it’s really not that big of a deal.” Lucy grabs my arm and puts on a pouty face.

“Pleaaase?” she begs. 

“Oh, fine,” I concede. “The groundskeeper at Hogwarts, Hagrid, got a dragon egg from this creepy guy at a bar. He was keeping it in his house, which is this little wooden hut, very flammable, I might add. A couple friends and I were there to see it hatch. I have to say, whatever I was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that a dragon was going to come out of that egg.” Lucy holds up her hand.

“Hold up. You got to see a dragon- an actual, real live dragon- get hatched? Illegally?” I nod.

“Yup. Hagrid likes his creatures. Anyway, this dragon grew really fast. My friend wrote to Charlie, and told him about the situation. In no time at all, the dragon was off our hands. I’m telling you, it really wasn’t all that exciting.” Lucy gapes.

“Not exciting?” she exclaims. “Aimee, that’s the most interesting story I’ve heard all year!” I quirk an eyebrow.

“Only all year? Lucy, how many illegal dragon-type stories do you hear?” Lucy laughs.

“Well I suppose this  _ is _ the first one. But with Ledecky as a sister, I certainly get my fair share of stories. Hey, do you want any of this?” She holds out the bottle of sunblock. I shrug. I’ve never actually used sunblock before, so I wouldn’t even know how much to use.

“You probably should. You have about the palest skin I’ve ever seen.” Lucy squirts a glob of cream onto her hand and starts rubbing it on her face.

“Yeah, it’s the red hair.” I say. Lucy tosses me the sunscreen.

“At least do your face. Led would kill me if we came back looking like a couple of tomatoes.” I laugh weakly and squirt some sunscreen onto my hand. It’s thicker than I thought, staining my hands white.

“So tell me about your siblings.” I say.

“Okay.” Lucy says, kicking a rock down the sidewalk. “First there’s Ledecky. She’s the oldest, turning nineteen in August. Then there’s Malcolm. He’s eighteen, just graduated this past year. Magnolia comes after that, and if you ever hear someone say Curly Sue, they’re talking about her. She has pink hair now, but she looked a lot like Curly Sue- from the movie- when she was little.” I look down at the cement shyly.

“I’ve never seen it.” I say. Lucy shrugs.

“It’s a crappy movie, but my Mum loves it. Anyway, Mags turned sixteen in May. And then there’s me and the twins. I turn thirteen in October.” I nod thoughtfully. Lucy takes a seat on the same bench I was sitting on earlier today. She pats the seat next to her, indicating for me to sit down.

“You’ve still got sunblock on your face. Here, I’ll get it,” she offers, reaching her hand toward my face. I jerk back, flinching horribly.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” My cheeks blush crimson.

“No, sorry- I… Don’t worry about it.” 

“Oh, er- okay. Do you- can I-” I nod and lean in slightly. Lucy reaches her hand forward again, more hesitantly this time. She touches my cheek gently, rubbing the sunscreen into my skin. 

“There,” she breathes after a few seconds. “Now your face isn’t all pasty white.” I smile half-heartedly, my cheek still warm from Lucy’s touch.

“Thanks. I’d hate to look like a ghost all day.” I shake my head lightly to clear my thoughts. What is wrong with me today?

“Wanna get some ice cream?” Lucy asks after a pause. 

“Oh, I don’t have any money,” I reply sadly. Lucy just shrugs.

“That’s okay. My treat. I know this great place in West Pond. We can walk there, it’s not that far.” I hesitate.

“I- er- You don’t need to pay for my ice cream.” Lucy tilts her head questioningly.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any money?” I blush.

“I don’t. I- just- I don’t need to get anything. It’s alright.” Lucy jumps off the bench, pulling me with her.

“You might change your mind on the way there. It’s pretty hot out today.” Eventually I concede and we start towards Wisteria Walk.

“Should we tell your sister where we’re going?” I ask. Lucy shakes her head.

“Nah. She’s got her hands full with Thing One and Thing Two. So long as we’re back by a decent hour she won’t worry.” I nod and kick a pebble into the road.

“Okay.” I say softly. I don’t know who Thing One and Thing Two are, but I’m assuming she’s referring to the twins.

“So… Do you have any more fun stories from school? Any more dragons? Hippogriffs? Evil beings out to get you?” I think back to Quirrell at the end of the year. Voldemort would definitely classify as an evil being out to get me. But for some reason I really don’t want to mention him.

“What’s a hippogriff?” I ask instead. Lucy shrugs.

“I have no idea. Ledecky thinks they’re really cute though.” Merlin, how many magical creatures are there? We take a left, turning onto Raindrop Road. 

“So where are Malcolm and Magnolia today?” I ask, trying to move the conversation away from magic related topics.

“Oh, my brother’s actually living in London with a couple friends. He’s going to university there in the fall. And Mags is working at Turn Style; it’s a thrift store in George Heights.” 

“I’ve never been to London,” I say thoughtfully, my cheeks flushing red as soon as the words leave my mouth.

“Really?” Lucy asks. “Oh, we should totally go this summer! I’m sure Ledecky would be willing to take us.” I shrug.

“Oh, no, that’d be too much to ask-” Lucy waves her hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. I have plenty of siblings. One of them can take us.” I try to conceal it, but a small smile appears on my lips.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice.” I say softly. 

Maybe this summer won’t be so bad, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god it is hot out today! I went for a walk around the lake and came back dripping in sweat. I hope everyone is having a good day and you enjoyed this chapter. As always, let me know if you notice any spelling/grammatical mistakes.  
> I actually got the ideas for Lucy and Magnolia's nicknames from a friend. For as long as I've known her, she's called her little sister Doodles, and neither of them remember how it started. The same friend also calls her sister's friend Curly Sue.  
> Stay healthy :)  
> Catalina


	4. Ice Cream and Spaghetti

The Frozen Spoon is a small shop on the edge of West Pond. A small bell rings as Lucy opens the door and we walk inside. The air conditioning washes over us in a cold blast of air, and I unconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

“How can I help you ladies today?” asks the guy behind the counter. He has dark, curly hair, and appears to be about sixteen or seventeen.

“Hi… ” Lucy leans forward to read the guy’s name tag. “… Metias. I’ll have two scoops of the Funky Trod.” Metias nods.

“Bowl or cone?” he asks. Lucy eyes the cones over the counter.

“Cone, I suppose.” she says. Metias smiles kindly and starts scooping ice cream into a small cake cone.

“What do you want, Aimee?” Lucy asks. I shrug.

“I don’t need anything,” I say. Lucy groans and slaps her forehead.

“The Mint Chip is really good, but so is Toffee Trunks. Malcolm  _ loves _ Coffee Spice, but I personally don’t think it’s all he makes it out to be.” I can tell Lucy isn’t going to relent, so I peer at the flavors under the glass window while Lucy licks her own ice cream.

“Which one’s the cheapest?” I ask Metias quietly. He glances over the choices, finally pointing to a creamy white one.

“Vanilla,” he says. I nod.

“Okay. I’ll just have one scoop.” Metias glances towards the cones in askance. “In a bowl, please.” I say. 

“Aimee, you can get what you want,” Lucy says, frowning. “I told you it’s my treat.” I blush. Why does this have to be so difficult?

“I don’t like being in debt to people,” I say softly. “Besides. I like vanilla.” Metias hands me my ice cream and I grab a plastic spoon from the cup next to the register.

“That’ll be $7.43,” Metias says, punching a few keys. Lucy pulls a couple bills from her pocket and passes them to Metias, telling him to ‘keep the change.’

“Inside or outside?” Lucy asks, gesturing to the tables nearby. I shrug.

“Thanks for the ice cream. And you can choose.” Lucy groans.

“It’s okay to have an opinion, you know,” she says sardonically. Blood rushes to my cheeks.

“Inside?” I suggest meekly. Lucy grins the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. 

“Brilliant!” she exclaims happily, plopping down on a corner table. The bell dings again, and a gaggle of giggling girls enter the creamery. 

“Hi, Metias,” they chorus. Lucy lets out a barely audible groan.

“They go to Stonewall,” she whispers. “Complete dimbos, the lot of them.” I suppress a giggle. One of the girls with blonde highlighted hair and an unnatural amount of blush turns around.

“Oh. My. God. Lucy Browne?” The other four girls turn around at her words.

“No way!” A girl with dark hair and purple eyeshadow speaks up.

“Mmmm, my favorite people,” Lucy mutters sarcastically. I bite back another laugh as the girls approach.

“I didn’t know you lived around here!” Purple Eyeshadow exclaims.

“Oh, well, I do,” Lucy says uninterestedly as she licks a drop of ice cream from her finger. 

“Hmmm,” Purple Eyeshadow says disdainfully. I frown. These girls are not making a good first impression. 

“Who’s this?” A tall girl in a tube top and jean shorts asks, pointing to me.

“This is Aimee,” Lucy brightens up a bit. “We went to primary school together.” 

“I’m Gracia,” Tube Top says, not offering her hand. “This is Ashley, Sophie, Liz and Ella.” I suppress a snort. What, did their parents look up ‘Basic White Girls’ to find name ideas?

“Nice to meet you.” I greet them politely.

“Yes,” Gracia says, flipping her long hair. 

“Well, we best be off.” The girl Gracia indicated to be Sophie says.

“Hmm. Bye-bye, then!” Lucy says, giving a sarcastic little wave.

“Bye, Metias!” all five girls chorus on their way out the door. Lucy and I bust out laughing as soon as they’re out the door.

“I don’t know you-” Lucy addresses Metias, “-but I am  _ so _ sorry.” Metias smiles grimly.

“They’ve memorized my schedule,” he moans. “They’re here  _ every day. _ ” Lucy laughs, slurping her ice cream. I eat another small spoonful of mine.

“Hey, you’re kinda cute,” Lucy’s eyes roam up and down, examining all of Metias from his mint green ‘Frozen Spoon’ visor to his faded blue jeans and worn out Converse. “How old are you? Are you single?” she asks. 

“Er- I’m certainly too old for you!” he exclaims, scandalized. Lucy shakes her head.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I have a sister.” she explains. Metias’ skin darkens slightly.

“Oh, right, er- I’m seventeen,” he says. “And, yeah I’m… single.” Lucy claps her hands brightly. 

“Brilliant!” she exclaims. “Mag’s sixteen!” she wiggles her eyebrows, causing Metias to darken even more.

“Oh. Er- yeah, okay. Okay. Do you have her number?” Lucy hesitates.

“I’m not going to give you her number,” she snaps. “Sorry. But you  _ are _ a complete stranger. For all I know, you could be a total pervert.” 

She pauses, “A nice pervert, but a pervert nonetheless.” Metias chuckles.

“Are there…  _ nice _ perverts?” Lucy shrugs.

“Who knows? You could be unique.”

“Well I assure you I’m not a pervert. But, I understand.” he says reassuringly.

“Well I still want you to go flirt with my sister, because you seem nice enough, and she needs a nice guy. Now, you should probably know some basic facts so you don’t make a complete fool of yourself, or go after the wrong girl or something. Be smart about this, Metias.” Lucy scolds. Metias looks rather taken aback at how this twelve year old- whom he’s never met before today- is talking to him like she’s known him her whole life. I take a bite of vanilla, enjoying the show.

“First off, her name is Magnolia, and she has this short, curly, pink hair. You don’t have anything against pink hair, do you?” Metias weakly shakes his head, overwhelmed by Lucy’s exuberant personality. I know the feeling.

“Good. Second, she’s rather eccentric, but she’s the most beautiful person to ever exist.” Here Lucy’s eyes flicker to me and a faint blush appears on her cheeks. Huh. That’s odd. 

“She works at Turn Style, in George Heights, and she’ll be there till five, so I suggest heading over there after your shift. She’s usually at the counter, but either way, she’s not hard to spot. In fact, I have a picture right here.” Lucy reaches into her back pocket and digs through her wallet, finally pulling out a photograph and showing it to Metias.

“Do you just- carry this around in your pocket?” he asks, looking over the picture intently.

“Of course! I have pictures of all my siblings, just in case.” Metias looks at Lucy questioningly.

“In case of what…?” he shakes his head, clearly rethinking the question. “Nevermind. I-” The bell rings and the door opens, giving way to a group of familiar boys. You have  _ got _ to be kidding me.

“Three scoops of Mint Chip on a waffle cone.” Piers Polkiss demands rudely, shoving Lucy out of the way. The picture of Magnolia flutters to the ground, and Lucy quickly bends down to pick it up.

“Oh, if it isn’t Juicy Lucy,” Piers says cruelly. “Figures we’d find you here, at an ice cream shop.” Lucy crosses her arms, moving slightly to block the boys’ view of me.

“That’s all you’ve got? I’ve told you before that your stupid fat jokes won’t work on me.” Piers frowns, and Malcolm and Gordon crack their knuckles menacingly. Dennis stands quietly in the back, along with some kid I’ve never seen before.

“You stupid little b-” 

“Here’s your ice cream.” Metias interrupts brightly, practically shoving Piers’ three scoops at him. “That’ll be four dollars and eleven cents.” Piers slaps his money on the counter and roughly grabs his ice cream. 

“Thank you, and have a nice day!” Metias says with a clearly forced smile. Piers frowns.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says to his cronies. All five boys turn to leave when Dennis and I lock eyes. I shrink into my seat slightly as Dennis taps Piers and points to me. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Wittle Potty.” Piers mocks. I take a deep breath.

“Screw off, Piers.” I say weakly. Piers’ gaze darkens.

“Feisty, aren’t we? I’d tread carefully if I were you, Potter. Wouldn’t want to add any more bruises to that collection.” he asks, gesturing to the still vibrant bruise under my eye. I blush. Malcolm and Gordon crack their knuckles again and take a few steps forward. My gut is screaming at me to run, to hide, to just curl up into a ball and let the punches roll. But instead I stand up on shaky legs.

“I said, screw off,” I speak a little more forcefully this time. “You’re not gonna do anything without Dudley.” All five boys take a few more steps forward and I resist the urge to back away.

“Dudley-” Piers starts, “-is in the past. As you can see, he’s been replaced.” Piers gestures to the new kid.

“This is Brennan. He joined up when Dudley started hanging out with  _ girls _ .” Lucy grabs my hand and leans in.

“Aimee, let’s just get out of here. They’re not worth it.” I nod, incredibly thankful Lucy isn’t going to punch someone again. I’m sure nobody has forgotten what happened last year.

“Aww, are you scared?” Piers mocks as we inch toward the door. Lucy stops by the register and whispers something into Metias’ ear. He nods and gives her a thumbs up.

“I won’t, don’t worry,” he says. I wonder what she told him. 

“We’re going home, Piers.” Lucy says forcefully. “Leave us alone.” Piers pouts his lips.

“But poor Aimee here doesn’t have a home, do you, Potty? Your ‘family’ left you alone for the weekend, didn’t they? Tell me, what does it feel like to not be loved- by  _ anybody? _ ” Piers finishes quietly. I blink away the stupid tears forming in my eyes and clench my fists.

“How about  _ you _ tell  _ me _ what it feels like to be such a  _ big baby _ that you need four twelve year olds to fight your battles for you? That you take pleasure in beating up defenseless eight year olds?” Piers drops his ice cream and it falls with a ‘splat’ to the ground.

“I-I- How- You  _ dare- _ ” he sputters. This time it’s me who grabs Lucy’s hand.

“Now would be a really good time to run.” I whisper. Lucy grins and we dash from the store. The sound of thundering footsteps follows us as we dip and dive through the streets, but it gets gradually quieter until the only sound left is our own feet slapping against the pavement.

“I think we’ve lost them.” Lucy wheezes, slowing down and collapsing under a massive oak tree. “Oh, bollocks. Remind me to never run again.” I laugh and fall to my knees next to Lucy.

“That ice cream doesn’t taste so good now, does it?” I point out, strands of grass tickling my arms and legs.

“Oh  _ hell _ no!” Lucy agrees. “It was good in the moment, though.” We lay there in silence for a few minutes.

“What did you say to Metias on the way out?” I finally ask.

“Oh, I just told him not to tell Magnolia I set them up. She doesn’t like when I play matchmaker.” I giggle.

“I can’t believe you just set your sister up with a random cashier at an ice cream shop!” I exclaim. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Lucy says. “He  _ is _ really cute though.” I blush and don’t say anything.

“So Dudley decided to grow a pair and leave that stupid gang, did he?” Lucy asks after a few moments.

“Yeah, I suppose. Today was the first I heard of it, but a couple days ago a girl from Smeltings called, asking for Dudley. And he’s been acting oddly… nice all summer.” I shrug. “I mean, it’s bloody weird, but I’m not complaining.” Lucy sits up with an ‘umph!’ 

“I still think he’s a git. A stupid, cowardly git.” Laughter bubbles up inside me and spills out. Lucy stares.

“What?” she asks. “What did I say?” I keep laughing.

“Thank you, Lucy,” I say, finally sobering. “Thank you.” And before I can rethink it, I lean over and give Lucy a quick hug. 

“You’re welcome, weirdo,” Lucy teases.

The day passes in a blur of smiles and laughter, and I wonder if this is what it feels like to really be a kid. Free and lighthearted, not a care in the world. Fortunately, we have no more run-ins with Dudley’s old gang, and Lucy doesn’t recognize anyone from Stonewall, either. 

“I’m hungry,” Lucy states as we sit on the swings hours later. “Do you want to stay for dinner? Or do you need to get home?” 

“Oh, the Dursleys are out of town for the weekend.” Lucy rolls her eyes.

“Well I know  _ that. _ I mean; wherever you’re staying while they’re gone. Do you need to be back in time for dinner?” I hesitate, then shake my head weakly.

“No. No, I don’t,” I reply softly. Lucy grins brightly.

“Brilliant!” she shouts, gaining momentum to jump off her swing. She lands on her feet, swaying for a moment before straightening. Unlike Lucy; I slow down a bit before lightly hopping off. Even so, I almost lose my balance, but Lucy grabs my arm to steady me.

“Do you have any food allergies?” she asks as we start back towards Magnolia Crescent. I frown. I don’t actually know. It took my stomach some time to adjust to the rich Hogwarts food, but after the first week or so, I was fine. Although I probably only got sick in the first place because I went from a piece of toast a day to a buffet of all the food in the world.

“I don’t think so,” I say thoughtfully. 

“You don’t… think so?” Lucy questions. I shrug.

“Er- I’m a picky eater.” I clarify, using Petunia’s excuse.

“Oh, that’s right. I remember you said that last year.” Lucy says. I gape.

“How the bloody hell do you remember something I said  _ once _ over a year ago?” Lucy shrugs.

“I have a weird memory. I can’t remember things like how to spell ‘hyperbole’ but I can recall the most obtuse facts like they’re glued to my brain.” she explains.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known how to spell hyperbole,” I say as we turn onto Magnolia Crescent. Lucy laughs.

“You’re lucky to not have any allergies though,” she says wistfully. “I'm allergic to almonds and cats. It sucks. One of my friends from Stonewall has a cat, and I can never go over to her place. The first and last time I did, I broke out in hives and was sneezing for a week.” she shudders. I hesitate as Lucy holds open the door to her house, still feeling as if I’m intruding on her family.

“Go on, Aimee, my siblings don’t bite.” she laughs. “Well, Arlo does sometimes, but mostly they’re safe.” I blush and hurry inside, following suit as Lucy slips off her shoes.

“Ledecky! Curly Sue, are you home?” she shouts, collapsing on the couch. I stand awkwardly in the doorway.

“Aimee, sit.” she orders gently. I perch stiffly on the edge of the couch. Lucy rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment. 

“Hey, Doodles,” A guy with dark stubble and messy chestnut hair enters the room. Lucy jumps up and rushes to hug him.

“Malcolm? What are you doing here?” she exclaims.

“I have a date tomorrow evening, thought I’d stop by to say ‘hi’ to my favorite sister.” 

“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” a girl with curly pink hair comments from the front entryway, tossing her keys onto a table near the door. Lucy was right, Magnolia  _ is _ beautiful.

“Hey, Nola,” Malcolm greets, leaning in for a quick hug. 

“So, how was work?” Lucy asks, winking subtly in my direction. 

“Oh, it was brilliant. I met the cutest guy at the checkout counter. He has these  _ amazing _ little curls that I just want to twirl my fingers in, and his jawline is to  _ die _ for. Makes me want to just slam him against the wall and snog him senseless.” Magnolia runs her fingers through her own hair and collapses onto a leather loveseat, tucking her legs beneath her. Malcolm clamps his hands over his ears.

“Lalalalala!” he sings. “Nola, nobody wants to hear that!” Magnolia laughs and her eyes land on me.

“Doodles, who’s your friend?” she asks. Malcolm looks over at me too, as if seeing me for the first time. I blush and curl in on myself slightly.

“Oh, this is Aimee,” Lucy introduces me with a grin. 

“Are you the one with the arse of a cousin?” Magnolia asks bluntly. My cheeks turn even darker.

“Er-” I start, but Lucy jumps in.

“Yeah,” she says. “Dudley’s a real bastard.” Malcolm frowns.

“Language, Lucy,” he reprimands lightly. Lucy just rolls her eyes and ignores her brother.

“I’m Magnolia,” Magnolia says, stretching out her hand in greeting. I shake it hesitantly, and do the same with Malcolm as he introduces himself.

“Aimee’s staying for dinner,” Lucy says brightly. The front door opens again and Ledecky walks in, the twins on her heels. They run to hug their brother, screaming ‘Malcolm!’ and latching onto his legs. He grins.

“Doodles, Aimee, you’re back!” she greets. “Oh. Hi Malcolm. Decided to show your face?” Her voice takes on a sharp edge, and Lucy rolls her eyes. Huh. I wonder what happened there.

“That was subtle.” Lucy says, earning herself a glare from both Malcolm and Ledecky.

“I’m in charge of dinner tonight,” Ledecky says, breezing past Lucy’s comment. “Is spaghetti alright?” Malcolm opens his mouth, but Magnolia cuts him off.

“Really, Malcolm. Don’t be a prat. We’ve got company.” she scolds, gesturing to me. Malcolm blushes and closes his mouth again.

“Spaghetti’s fine, Led.” Magnolia says calmly. Ledecky nods and exits the room. 

“Should be about five minutes!” she calls from the other room. Magnolia and Malcolm whip their heads around.

“Er- Led- shouldn’t it take longer than that? Considering you have to _cook the pasta?_ _By hand?_ ” Magnolia asks in an insinuating tone. Ledecky pops her head back through the doorway.

“Why are you being so weird?” she asks. Magnolia whispers something in Ledecky’s ear and jerks her head towards me. Ledecky lets out a laugh.

“Aimee’s a witch,” she says calmly. This time Magnolia and Malcolm whip their heads in my direction. My cheeks blush crimson. 

“Er- yeah.” I say shyly, feeling rather overwhelmed.

“Brilliant,” Magnolia says in awe. My blush deepens. Lucy scowls and pulls me off the couch.

“We’re going upstairs. Where there aren’t any older siblings to gawk.” she says pointedly. Malcolm and Magnolia look down ashamedly. Arlo and Axel, who had been watching the scene intently, jump up and run after Lucy and me.

“We’re coming too!” Axel calls after us. Lucy laughs as Arlo trips on the stairs, but helps him up anyway. I can’t help but feel saddened by the fact that no one’s ever done that for me.

Neither of Lucy’s parents are at dinner. I’m not sure if that’s normal or not, having only ever eaten at the Dursleys or Hogwarts. Petunia always insists Vernon be home in time for a family dinner (which I cook, but never eat.)

“This is delicious, Ledecky,” I compliment Lucy’s eldest sibling quietly, taking small bites of the pasta.

“Thank you, Aimee. It’s amazing what magic can do, huh? I was a terrible cook when I had to do things the Muggle way.” Malcolm snorts.

“So terrible that you had to cheat to make  _ spaghetti. _ ” he mutters. Ledecky glares at him. 

“Screw you, Malcolm. You’re gonna talk to me about  _ che- _ ” 

“Led, did I tell you about the guy I met at work today?” Magnolia jumps in anxiously, eyes darting between her two siblings. 

“No, you didn’t,” Ledecky says, calming slightly, but still shooting daggers at Malcolm. “Is he cute?” Magnolia breathes a slight sigh of relief.

“Bloody hell, is he ever!” she says, slightly breathless just at the thought of Metias. “His name is Metias and he was  _ totally _ into me. He didn’t even buy anything, he came to the counter just to talk to me.” Lucy looks at her plate and quickly covers her mouth to stifle her giggle. I do the same. 

“So… are you guys going out?” Lucy asks, carefully controlling her laughter. Magnolia nods enthusiastically.

“We’re going to a restaurant in Welbude tomorrow night!” she squeals excitedly.

“That’s awesome, Curly Sue,” Ledecky says sincerely. 

“Same night at my date,” Malcolm mutters passive-aggressively from across the table, earning himself a glare from each of his siblings, excluding the twins, who seem to be content in their contest of who can eat the largest bite of spaghetti.

“You have a date?” Ledecky asks coldly. Malcolm grins.

“Sure do! You know everyone wants a piece of this.” he replies with a cruel wink. Ledecky throws her fork down harshly.

“Fuck. You. Does she  _ know _ you’re a cheating bastard?” she asks menacingly. At this point all eyes are on Malcolm and Ledecky, and even the twins have stopped chewing to watch.

“Can you two discuss this later?” Magnolia asks pointedly. “We have company.” she jerks her head towards me.

“That’s okay, er- I can- I can go,” I offer awkwardly, pushing my chair back and standing up.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Lucy seethes, grabbing my arm and pulling me back down.

“I don’t want to intrude,” I whisper to Lucy. She shoots me a look and then pulls me back up.

“We’re going for a walk.” she declares to the room. Magnolia gives us a wistful glance, but doesn’t move. I can hear shouting from the house even after we shut the front door. Lucy and I walk in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m really sorry you had to see that.” Lucy apologizes. “If I knew Malcolm was going to be here…” she trails off.

“It’s okay.” I say quietly. Lucy shakes her head.

“No it’s not. The two of them are acting like total prats and they're bringing the whole family down.” I want to ask what happened between the two siblings, but I know it’s none of my business.

“You can ask what happened, if you want.” Lucy offers suddenly. “It wouldn’t be rude.” I blush and fiddle with the hem of my T-shirt.

“Er- why are they so angry with each other?” I ask hesitantly. Lucy pauses, like she’s gathering her thoughts, before speaking.

“Well, last year, Ledecky was dating this really nice girl; Elsie. They’d been going out for about a year, and we all loved her. She made Led really happy.” Lucy falters ever so slightly, as if to see my reaction. I school my face to be expressionless, but my thoughts are in turmoil. Ledecky had a  _ girlfriend?  _ I know that kind of thing is wrong, that it’s unnatural. But Ledecky seems so nice, and pretty, and perfect and… I blush at the direction my thoughts just went. I just can’t imagine her going to hell. For any reason. I push the thought aside and focus back on Lucy’s words.

“Then, a couple months ago, they got in this  _ huge _ fight; I don’t even know what it was about. Elsie stormed out of the house, shouting that they were done, and Ledecky came downstairs crying. She was really upset. Anyway, that night, Elsie and Malcolm ended up sleeping together. I guess she came back for her- phone, or something and… things got out of hand. Ledecky found the two of them asleep on the couch the next morning, naked.” I gape. I can’t imagine doing that to your own sister.

“That’s awful!” I exclaim. Lucy nods sadly.

“We were all really pissed at Malcolm. I don’t think Mum and Dad know what happened, because Led just avoided Malcolm until he left for London, a few days later.” We walk in silence for a while longer.

“I’m so sorry, Lucy-” I begin.

“Don’t apologize.” Lucy interrupts. “Malcolm didn’t come home for like two months, until Mum and Dad got worried. Ledecky spent most of that weekend locked in her room, getting totally piss drunk. Malcolm didn’t even try to talk to her. This is his first time home since.” Silence falls again, but it’s not awkward at all. After circling the park for the third time, Lucy breaks the silence.

“Thanks for walking with me,” she says quietly. When I look over at her, I see a single tear glistening on her cheek.

“Anytime.” I say.

The house is quiet when we get back a few hours later. 

“You should probably go, right?” Lucy asks quietly. Of course. I knew she would want to kick me out sooner or later. 

“Oh. Yeah- yeah I suppose I should.” I reply sadly. Lucy looks up.

“I mean- you don’t have to go- I just thought- it’s late-” she falters.

“It’s okay.” I cut in. “I can go.” I feel the words leave my mouth, but all I want to do is stay. I don’t want to spend another night in the garden shed. I don’t want to go back to the house that will never be home. 

“Bye, Lucy.” I say. She smiles.

“Bye, Aimee. I’ll see you soon. Today was a lot of fun.” Lucy gives me a quick hug and shows me out the door. As I walk back home in the dark, the loneliness of the summer hits me all over again. 

I wish Lucy had asked me to stay the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy... Sunday? At this point I don't even know the day. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. As always, please let me know if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes. Thank you everyone who is commenting and leaving kudos! It always makes my day when I get the notification telling me someone reviewed.  
> Stay healthy :)  
> Catalina


	5. I don't think I'm okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter gets pretty dark, it has a short scene of non-graphic rape, and some harsh language.

The Dursleys get back Sunday afternoon around three. The weekend sun has turned my usually pale skin a flushed pink, and I can feel the skin on my nose flaking away with each touch. The only coherent thought in my mind is  _ I should've stolen that sunblock from Lucy. _

Vernon gets out of the car and brushes past me, gruffly unlocking the front door. I shuffle to the car as Petunia and Dudley follow Vernon inside. I grab the duffels from the boot and bring them inside.

“Take the bags upstairs, girl.” Vernon barks from the living room, where he’s already crashed on the couch with the telly on. My stomach rumbles with hunger as I lug the heavy duffels upstairs. Dudley is sitting quietly on his bed, staring out the window. I drop the bag on the floor, and Dudley jumps about a foot into the air.

“Oh. Aimee.” he greets, turning back to staring out the window. I hesitate. 

Dear Merlin, screw my conscience.

“Dudley… are you okay?” I ask hesitantly. He shrugs and brings his knees to his chest.

“Mum told Dad about Melissa. I  _ told  _ him we aren’t dating! We’re just friends, I swear! But now Dad keeps going on about ‘preparing me for manhood’ and he keeps mentioning you, and I-I don’t know what’s going on!” I sink to the floor, shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

“No. No. No no no no no.” I whisper over and over again until I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jerk away.

“Er-” Dudley starts. “Do you- d’ya know what he’s talking about?” 

I nod slowly. “I- I think so.” I stutter. “Can you-”

“FREAK!” a shout comes from downstairs. I sigh and stand up, still shaking slightly. 

Petunia is standing in the kitchen, hands on her hips. 

“The kitchen is filthy.” she says. “The milk has gone bad, and the bread is moldy.” I stand there silently.

“Well?” Petunia shrieks. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“You locked me out of the house!” I exclaim in disbelief. Petunia raises her hand and slaps me hard across the cheek.

“You insolent little girl. We’ve taken you in and raised you as our own, giving you food, clothes, and a roof over your head, and this is how you repay us?” 

My jaw drops open. “Are you serious right now?” I ask. Petunia slaps me again, harder this time. Tears fill my eyes.

“If Vernon didn’t have something planned for you later, I’d have my way with you now. As such, I’ll decrease your punishment to just a day without food.” Bloody hell. I bite my tongue, not wanting to increase that time frame. I haven’t eaten since dinner at Lucy’s, and I’m already starting to have dizzy spells.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” I say in a subdued tone. Petunia looks me over once, then nods sharply.

“Good. Now get to work on this mess.” she gestures to the kitchen, then clomps from the room.

Petunia orders pizza, so I don’t have to make dinner. It’s nice, but I can smell the pizza from inside my cupboard, and my stomach grumbles painfully. I groan and roll onto my back, closing my eyes. 

A few hours later, Vernon opens my cupboard softly, and pulls me out. I don’t bother struggling because I know what’s going to happen and there’s no stopping it. He brings me to Dudley’s second bedroom, and pushes me down onto the bed. However, he doesn’t immediately strip like he usually does.

“Stay.” he orders, then leaves the room. A few minutes later he returns, Dudley in tow. I start shaking my head frantically.

“No. No! You can’t do this!” I shout. Vernon clamps his hand over my mouth as Dudley wearily rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“Alright, Dudley, now that you have a girlfriend, it’s time for you to learn how things work.” Dudley frowns.

“I told you, Dad, Melissa’s not my girlfriend.” Dudley mumbles, his throat scratchy with sleep. Vernon just chuckles and claps his son on the shoulder.

“Ah, son, you might think that now, but just give it a little time. No good gentleman has female friends. I didn’t raise a faggot, did I, son?” Dudley shakes his head weakly. Vernon slaps his shoulder again.

“Atta boy, Dudley.” he grunts. “Now, I’ll go first, show you how things are done, then I’ll leave you two alone.” From the way Dudley’s brow furrows in confusion, I can tell he still doesn’t understand what’s going on. 

“Uncle Vernon, please!” I plead. “Don’t make him do this!” Vernon slaps my across the face, his wedding ring cutting into my skin.

“Quiet, girl!” he orders, undoing his belt. I can see my hands trembling as I back up against the wall.

“ _ Please _ ,” I whimper. “Please.” Vernon just ignores me, easily sliding my tattered shorts off my legs. Dudley’s eyes finally widen in recognition.

“Dad-” he starts, but Vernon cuts in.

“Quiet, Dudley, you can ask questions after.” Dudley shuts up, watching the scene with wide eyes.

It’s over quick. Vernon never has been able to last that long. He collapses on top of me, sweaty and out of breath. Dudley stands frozen in the corner, a horrified expression on his face. After a while, Vernon finally stands back up and redresses. 

I don’t move. I don’t even register the words Vernon speaks to Dudley before clapping him on the back and leaving the room. Dudley doesn’t really seem to have registered what’s happening, either. Eventually I push myself into a sitting position.

“Sorry.” I say. Dudley’s eyes flicker over to me and he pushes himself off the wall, hesitantly taking a step towards me.

“W-W- I- I don’t-” he stutters.

“It’s okay,” I say gently. “You don’t have to if you don’t want you.” Dudley takes another hesitant step forward. He picks up the T-shirt Vernon ripped off of me and lays it on the bed next to me. 

“Er- here,” he says awkwardly. I hesitantly pull the shirt over my head.

“Thanks.” I whisper. “Listen, your dad is probably right outside. We have to at least fake this.” 

Dudley nods awkwardly, perching on the end of the bed. “Er- I don’t know how to do that,” he says. 

I nod. “Okay. Just sound- out of breath, and, er- moan a little bit.” Dudley looks very uncomfortable, but does as I say.

“Does he- Does he do this a lot?” he asks quietly. 

“It was bad last summer.” I reply, not meeting Dudley’s eyes.

“I- I didn’t know.” 

I let out a bitter laugh. “Moan a little more.” I direct, and Dudley does so incredibly awkwardly. 

“B-but y-you’re-  _ we’re _ just k-kids! H-how… why-” Dudley stutters quietly. I shrug.

“Let’s never talk about this after tonight, okay?” I ask. Dudley pauses.

“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know… tell someone? It’s just… This is  _ wrong. _ ” I laugh again. 

“People don’t care. And don’t you dare tell anyone. It’ll just make things worse.” Dudley stays silent.

“We should probably be done by now,” I say after a few moments. “Zip up your jeans as you walk out. It’ll make things more believable.” 

Dudley nods and undoes his fly. “Er- bye, Aimee.” he says softly, opening the door and walking out into the hallway. After a couple minutes Vernon comes back in and escorts me back to my cupboard.

As I close my eyes and fall into the blissful release of sleep, I find I’m not sure I want to wake up.

  
  


“Potter!” Petunia shrieks from the living room. 

“Yes, Aunt Petunia?” I reply obediently, setting my oven mitts on the counter and entering the living room.

“The Masons will be here soon. Is dinner ready?” I nod.

“Yes, ma’am.” I say.

“Good. Clean up and make yourself scarce. We won’t have you messing up Vernon’s big dinner with your freakishness.” 

I nod again. “Er- can I go to the park, Aunt Petunia? I promise I won’t disturb the neighbors.” Petunia hesitates, but eventually nods sharply.

“You may. Stay out of sight and don’t cause problems.” she orders. “If I hear of any freaky business, you’ll be sorry.” I thank Petunia and hurriedly clean up the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later finds me standing in front of Number 14, Magnolia Crescent. I raise my hand to knock, then lower it. What if Lucy’s not home? What if she doesn’t want to see me? I should just go to the park like I told Petunia. I start to turn around when my stomach cramps painfully. I sigh internally and turn back to the door.

I just need to eat.

_ But she kicked you out last time! _ a nagging voice says in my head.  _ She didn’t want you there! _

I turn around once again and start down the sidewalk. One more night without food won’t kill me. Even if it is my birthday. I’m halfway down the walk when a voice calls out behind me.

“Aimee!” I whip around, and there’s Lucy, smiling in the doorway.

“Er- hi,” I say stupidly. 

Lucy waves me forward. “What are you doing? You’ve been standing out here for the past five minutes.” 

I shrug. “I didn’t know if you would want me here. Sorry.” I say. Lucy rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be daft. Of course I do. Now get your silly arse in here.”

My heart swells as I follow Lucy inside. “Sorry,” I repeat. Lucy rolls her eyes again.

“You know you’re welcome here anytime. Mum, Dad!” she calls. A man with Lucy’s dark hair enters the room, followed by a short woman with brilliant blue eyes.

“This is Aimee,” Lucy says. “I’ve told you about her.” 

I hold out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Browne.” Both adults shake my hand cheerfully.

“Oh, no need to be so formal, Aimee.” Mrs. Browne smiles kindly. She has a similar accent to Lucy’s. “I’m Edy, and this is Ben. Lucy has told us so much about you.” 

I blush deeply. “Er- all good things, I hope,” I say awkwardly. Mrs. Browne’s smile widens and she gives Lucy the side eye. 

“Oh, very good things, dear.” This time it’s Lucy who turns bright red and grabs my hand.

“Let’s go upstairs, Aimee,” she says, pulling me from the room.

“It was good to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Browne!” I call as we start up the stairs. 

“So-” Lucy starts as she shuts the door to her room. “-what brings you here this fine Friday?” I pause, unsure what to say.

“I… It’s my birthday.” I blurt unintentionally. Lucy’s eyes widen.

“No way! Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands, slapping my shoulder playfully.

“Well- er- I- I didn’t think it was important?” 

“ _ Not important? _ Aimee, of course your birthday is important!  _ You’re _ important!” I look away from Lucy at that. She’s just saying that. She doesn’t really mean it. 

“Come on. I have an idea.” She leads me back down to the kitchen, and starts pulling various ingredients from the cupboards; flour, sugar, eggs.

“We’re gonna bake you a cake. What’s your favorite?” I look at the ingredients she’s laid out on the counter.

“Er-”

CRACK.

I whip around to see a small, greenish creature standing on the counter. It has big, floppy ears, and baseball-sized green eyes. It seems to be wearing an old pillowcase as a dress.

“OH, FUCK! What the hell?!” Lucy shrieks at the top of her lungs, followed by many shouts of “Lucy!” and “Language!” from various Browne family members. Ledecky’s deep laughter filters down the stairs, earning a scolding of her own. 

I think I might laugh, too, if there wasn’t a rather frightening creature on the counter before us. Granted, it does only stand about three feet tall, but who knows what magical capabilities it could possess?

“Aimee Potter!” the creature squeaks excitedly. “What an honor! Dobby the house elf has heard of your greatness, miss, but to meet you! Oh, Dobby is honored to be in your presence!” Dobby’s eyes grow into even bigger orbs with every word.

“Er-” I begin awkwardly. “Do I know you?” 

Dobby shakes his head. “Aimee doesn’t know Dobby, but Dobby knows Aimee Potter! How she escaped You-Know-Who as an infant, and then again last year!” Dobby exclaims excitedly. I see Lucy turn to look at me with a look of bewilderment, but I ignore her.

“Well… is there something I can help you with?” I ask, trying not to sound rude.

“Dobby only came to tell Aimee that she mustn’t go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year!” Excuse me? “Dobby almost couldn’t find Aimee! Dobby went to her relatives’ first but Aimee was not there!” I freeze.

“Y-you went to the Dursleys?” I ask, my heartbeat speeding up to a mile a minute. 

Dobby nods, eyes wide. “They did not seem happy with Dobby, miss, so he came to your friend Lucy’s house.” I run my hands through my hair, half a million curses forming in my head, but none making it to my mouth. Lucy puts a hand on my shoulder.

“You okay?” she asks quietly. I nod jerkily and shrug out of her touch.

“Why don’t you want me at school?” I turn back to the house elf. “Hogwarts is my home! I have to go back!” Dobby starts to tug on his ears again.

“Dobby can’t say!” the house elf exclaims painfully, now slapping himself over the head. “Dobby shouldn’t have come. But Aimee must stay safe!” Lucy grabs Dobby’s hands to prevent him from hurting himself more.

“But why? Why can’t you tell me?” I demand, starting to get exasperated. Dobby scrunches his eyes and pulls his hands from Lucy’s grasp.

“Oh, if Dobby’s master knew he was here!” he wails, grabbing a spatula and continuing to attack himself. Lucy grabs it and sets it back in a drawer.

“Who’s your master?” I ask. “Maybe I can talk to them.” Dobby shakes his head.

“Dobby can’t say!” You’ve got to be bloody kidding me.

“Then I’m going back to Hogwarts. It’s where I belong! It’s where my friends are!” Dobby stops trying to break from Lucy’s grip and looks at me with wide eyes.

“Friends who don’t even write to Aimee?” he asks. I blush.

“Well, I-” I stop. “Hold on, how do you know Ron and Hermione haven’t been writing?” Dobby looks away, shame written into his features. He once again tugs his hands from Lucy’s grasp and pulls a stack of letters from somewhere in his pillowcase.

“Dobby thought- well- if Aimee didn’t hear from her friends, she wouldn’t want to go back to school.” There’s a beat of silence, in which both Lucy and Dobby stare at me, as if to see how I’ll react.

“Give me those letters, Dobby.” I demand with forced calm. Dobby tucks the envelopes back in his pillowcase and takes a defensive stance.

“Dobby can’t do that,” he says, glancing around frantically. 

“Give me the letters!” I yell, lunging toward Dobby. He dodges between my legs and runs from the room.

“Aimee must say she will not return to school!”

“You know I can’t do that, Dobby!”

“Then Dobby can’t give Aimee the letters,” Dobby says sadly. “Dobby is sorry, but he must keep Aimee Potter safe. She mustn't come back to Hogwarts.” With that, the house elf snaps his fingers and disappears. A beat of silence passes.

“So, how ‘bout that cake?” I ask, laughing weakly. 

Lucy shakes her head in disbelief. “Your life is wack.” she mutters.

“You have no idea,” I murmur in reply. 

“Well come on,” Lucy hauls me to my feet. I don’t even remember falling to my knees. “Let’s make that cake. Chocolate?” I smile weakly.

“Chocolate sounds great.”

“It’s supposed to bake for 35 minutes at 350 Fahrenheit,” Lucy reads from the recipe book we found in one of the kitchen cabinets. I nod and set the oven. Ledecky walks into the kitchen, eyes bright.

“Ooh, cake!” she exclaims, dipping her finger into the batter and licking it. “Delicious!”

“Ledecky!” Lucy shrieks. “This is Aimee’s birthday cake! Stop that!” 

“It’s your birthday?” Ledecky turns to me. I nod embarrassedly. “Well why didn’t you say anything? Happy birthday!” she exclaims.

“Er- thanks,” I blush and refocus my attention on pouring the batter into a cake pan. Magnolia pops her head through the doorway.

“Did I hear cake?” she inquires. Lucy groans, but passes her the spatula covered in cake batter. Magnolia grins and licks the chocolate happily.

“Er- how was your date, Magnolia?” I ask.

“Oh, it was wonderful!” she gushes. “Metias is just the sweetest. We’re going out again tomorrow. He’s taking me to karaoke in George Heights.” The oven beeps and I slide the cake in.

“Oh, I hope you guys have fun,” I say, setting a thirty minute timer on the microwave.

“Are you gonna kiss him?” Lucy inquires eagerly, resting her elbows on the counter. Magnolia shrugs.

“I want to. Oh  _ boy _ do I want to. But we’ll see how it goes.” I set the dirty dishes in the sink as the girls talk, filling it with water and soap.

“Oh, Aimee, you don’t have to do that,” Ledecky says.

“It’s really not a big deal.” I reply. Ledecky just laughs and waves her wand. The dishes are instantly gleaming.

“Oh. Thanks,” I say sheepishly. Ledecky just smiles, clasping her hands together in excitement.

“Alright girls, Downton Abbey is on in like three minutes, so if we could all hurry our arses into the living room!” she says, ushering us from the kitchen.

“Do you like Downton Abbey?” Lucy asks in a hushed tone as Ledecky fiddles with the remote.

“Er- I’ve never heard of it,” I whisper back. Lucy gapes.

“Really? Never?” I shake my head.

“Sorry.”

“Hush, don’t apologize!” Lucy scolds as the TV flickers on. “It’s Ledecky’s favorite show, like, ever.”

“Shush, Doodles!” Ledecky interjects from her seat on the sofa.

The microwave timer beeps halfway through the episode. I jump up to check the cake, which has started to fill the house with a heavenly aroma.

“Can I… ask you something?” Lucy asks quietly, having followed me into the kitchen. I pull the cake out of the oven.

“Er- yeah. What is it?” Lucy pauses before speaking.

“Earlier… when that  _ heinous _ creature mentioned he’d gone to your relatives’ house-” I suck in a breath. “-you kind of froze and then sounded almost… scared.” she glances at me.

“And I- just- with some of the other things you’ve said- I…” she trails off and looks at me. I try my best to hold her gaze, ignoring the pounding in my chest. “Aimee, do your relatives hurt you?” A split second passes in which I just stare at Lucy. I want to say no. I want to deny it. But I can’t get my mouth to form the words. 

And the silence says so much more than I ever could.

“Oh, Aimee.” Lucy pulls me into a hug, and I melt into her warm embrace. Tears fill my eyes and it’s all I can do to keep them from falling. “Last week. That bruise. You didn’t run into a door, did you?” I shake my head against her shoulder. Lucy just pulls me tighter and rubs my back soothingly.

“Hey, is the cake-” I yank myself from Lucy’s grasp, wiping my eyes furiously. Magnolia had entered the kitchen.

“Magnolia, can you give us a couple minutes?” Lucy asks in a strained voice. Magnolia nods and turns around when I practically shout, “No!” 

Both sisters turn to look at me. 

“I- well- er- we actually just finished talking. The cake is done.” Magnolia looks back and forth between me and Lucy.

“Okayyyy. Um, I still feel like I’m interrupting something, so I’m gonna go back into the living room. You two take your time.” She gives us one last look before heading back to the living room. 

“Aimee, we need to talk about this,” Lucy urges softly. I ignore her, instead turning my focus to slicing and plating the cake.

“Do you think your mum and dad’ll want cake?” I ask. 

“Aimee…”

“I’ll cut them a piece just in case. Will you help me bring these out?” I grab two plates and exit the kitchen, leaving Lucy alone.

“Oh, thank you Aimee,” Magnolia says graciously as I hand her a plate. “Axel! Arlo! Cake!  _ Oh,  _ this is delicious!” she exclaims as she takes a bite, almost moaning in delight. Immediately thundering footsteps sound on the stairs. Lucy enters the room with three plates in her arms and a smile plastered on her face. She gives one to Ledecky, then the twins swoop in, grabbing the remaining two.

“You can have this one, Lucy. I’ll get mine.” I offer, and hurry to the kitchen before she can protest. It doesn’t matter, though, because she follows me anyway.

“Aimee, stop avoiding me! We need to talk and you know it!” she exclaims. I whip around.

“Lucy, it’s none of your business! What’s the point, anyway, when I know that you won’t want to talk to me now that you’ve found out what a freak I am!” I pause to wipe tears off my cheeks, barely registering the telly being muted. “Now,  _ please _ , I haven’t eaten in like three days, and I would really just like to have a semi-okay night where I can celebrate my birthday like a fucking normal person!” My voice cracks at the end and I wipe more tears away. Lucy stays silent.

“I-I’m sorry. That was out of line. I should just go-” Lucy interrupts me with a bone crushing hug. Her hair smells like peach shampoo.

“Let’s celebrate  _ you _ tonight.” she whispers. “Let’s sit on the couch, watch the telly and stuff ourselves with cake. Does that sound okay?” I nod weakly.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. “I’m such a freak.” Lucy pulls away and holds me at arms length.

“You are the least freaky person I know. You’re kind, and thoughtful and sweet, and the best friend I could ever ask for. You talked to me that first day on the bus, and I can’t tell you what a difference that made. I will  _ never _ stop talking to you, not until the day I die. Aimee Potter, you listen to me when I say we are going to be friends forever. I can just tell.”

_ She’s lying,  _ says a voice in my head.

_ What if she’s not, _ another one interjects.

_ She is. You’re emotionally vulnerable right now. She’s just being polite. She probably won’t ever talk to you again after tonight. _

“I’m not worth that.” I mutter. Lucy lifts my chin up until our eyes meet.

“Aimee Potter.” She pushes a strand of hair from my face. “You are worth the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok it has been way too long since I've posted anything, and I am sooooo sorry. Please forgive me! School started again, and I've just had a really busy, stressful life recently. I legitimately haven't written a single thing since early September. I really hope this chapter was worth the wait, though. As always, please review, and especially let me know if I have any grammar/spelling mistakes. Thank you to everyone who reads this story, and a special thank you to everyone who comments. The reviews are really what keep me motivated.  
> Stay healthy :)  
> Catalina


	6. The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There is a scene with slightly graphic child abuse, and a few profane words.  
> As always, quotes from the actual book are in bold :)

“-We heard you talking in the kitchen, Lucy, and I- I don’t care what she thinks. This is… this is abuse!” The sound of low voices filters into my consciousness, and I slowly open my eyes. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have been out for a while. Night has fallen completely, leaving three small lamps to light the room. 

“And she said she hadn’t eaten in, like, three days, too. I’m guessing that wasn’t exactly voluntary. Shit, Ledecky, I’m so stupid! I should have noticed ages ago! I thought she was just shy, but now… Oh, God, what do we do?” I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to go back to sleep.

“Well, I think we have to tell the police.” Magnolia says grimly. I jump to my feet, throwing the blanket from my body.

“No no no no no, you can’t do that! Please, y- you don’t understand!” The three girls stare at me.

“Aimee-” Ledecky starts, but I cut in.

“NO! Listen, you- you’re making this a much bigger deal than it is! My uncle, he… he only hits me when he gets _really_ angry or when I do something stupid, or- or freakish. I-it’s not that bad, I swear.” Lucy eyes me suspiciously while Ledecky and Magnolia exchange a glance.

“Aimee, a parent- or guardian- should _never_ hit their child. No matter what stupid or ‘freakish’-” Ledecky bends her fingers to form air quotes, “-things a child does, it’s _never_ enough to deserve getting hit.” I eye her suspiciously. She must be lying… right? I’m a burden, a freak. The Dursleys would have had such normal, peaceful lives without me. It’s my fault my parents were killed and they got stuck with me.

“Your mum and dad never… hated you for being a witch?” My voice shakes with each word.

Ledecky’s jaw drops. “No! Of course not! D-do the Dursleys hate you for your magic?” I look away.

“I… Please don’t tell your mum and dad. I can handle it. I swear.” Lucy reaches out and lifts my chin until our eyes meet.

“Can you tell me something, Aimee?” I nod weakly. Lucy takes a deep breath. “Are you scared? Are you scared to go back tonight?” I hold her gaze for a second before looking away.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m scared or not. This is just how things are. I mess up, I pay the price. It’s only fair.” Lucy looks to be at a loss for words. 

“That- that’s not fair at all!” she exclaims, emotion coloring her tone. “You haven’t done anything!” I keep my gaze aimed at the ground, toeing a little blue stain in the carpet. Maybe… nail polish?

“It’s okay,” I whisper, finally glancing up. Tears are streaming down Lucy’s face. “I need to go now, Lucy. But I’m going to be fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” Lucy throws herself forward, wrapping me in a hug. 

“Come back tomorrow. Promise me you’ll come back tomorrow.” I start to shake my head, to say no, I can’t do that. But the words won’t leave my mouth. I can’t let Lucy down like that.

“O- okay.” I choke out. “Yeah. I’ll- I’ll be here. Thank you. This was… the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Tears fill my own eyes. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever see the Browne family again.

“Take care of yourself,” Ledecky says in a reserved tone. I don’t reply as Lucy walks me to the door.

“This is our phone number.” She hands me a slip of paper. “I… please call.” Lucy’s voice is raw with emotion. I take the slip of paper and tuck it in the waistband of my shorts. I think we both know I won’t use it.

“Thanks.” I whisper. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lucy says, tears dripping down her face. She doesn’t bother wiping them away.

“Goodbye, Lucy.” My heart is heavy as I walk out onto the dark street. A feeling deep in my gut tells me this is more than just a ‘see ya later.’

I think this is goodbye.

The lights are still on when I get to the Dursleys. I enter the house as silently as I possibly can, creeping past the living room to my cupboard. I reach to open the door, but a hand slaps me back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Vernon’s voice is low and menacing. I close my eyes tightly.

“Please, Uncle…” I breathe faintly. A beat of silence passes, then his hand shoots out, and my head smashes against the wall. It hurts, but not enough to be a concussion. I let out a shocked sigh of relief.

“Do you know what you’ve done?!” Vernon demands, lips touching my ear. His breath smells strongly of liquor. “That foul creature ruined my dinner! You made me lose the biggest deal of my career and you’ve tarnished my reputation! You’ll pay for this, Potter, I swear it.” I gulp. Vernon‘s rage is almost tangible. 

He could kill me.

He could really, _literally_ kill me.

“Uncle Vernon, please!” I plead. “I have- I have friends at school! They’ll notice if I don’t come back!” Vernon leans forward and spits on my face.

“Who would want to be friends with a freak like you?” he growls menacingly, before stalking off into the kitchen. I slide down the wall into a heap on the ground. Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back. I refuse to look weak.

Vernon returns with his hand held behind his back, as if he’s hiding something. Shit.

“Lie on your stomach, girl.” he orders. I hurry to do as he says. It’s always easier that way. Vernon grabs my shirt, and there’s a sharp ripping sound. It’s not scissors, it’s… 

A knife. 

Holy. Shit. He went to the kitchen and got a knife!

“Uncle Vernon, please! I- At school… they’ll noti-” My words are cut off by a slicing pain near my left shoulder blade. I let out a guttural scream. Vernon presses the knife into my back again. I try to wiggle out of his grasp, but Vernon just clutches my shoulder tighter.

“Stay quiet, girl.” he orders, his breath hot on my face as he shoves a wadded up cloth in my mouth.

It must be hours before Vernon throws the knife down next to me and stands up.

“Wash the knife. And clean up this mess.” he orders, already halfway out the door. “You have five minutes in the shower. Cold water only.” 

The blood comes off the knife easily, and stains the water red. I wipe it clean in a daze. 

The stains on the floor are harder to get out.

Vernon’s snores are already sounding loudly from the next room as I limp into the bathroom. 

“Aimee?” I jump a foot into the air as Dudley’s timid voice sounds behind me.

“What do you want, Dudley?” I say. My voice comes out weak and raspy. “I’m really not in the mood.” 

“I- I wanted to make sure you’re okay. My… dad… sounded pretty harsh.” I see the way Dudley hesitates before calling Vernon ‘dad’ and it makes my heart leap. Maybe there’s hope for him after all.

“I-” I start to tell Dudley to just sod off, that I’ve lasted almost eleven years without his help, why should I need it now?

But I can’t get the words out.

“I can’t really reach my back.” I whisper. “Could you… clean the cuts?” Dudley hesitates, and I know he’s going to say no, he’s just going to go back to bed with a clear conscience. 

“Okay.” he agrees. I gape. “Should we… go into the bathroom?” Dudley asks. I nod.

“After you,” I say, holding the door. 

“What- what do I do?” Dudley asks hesitantly. I grab soap from the shower and wet a washcloth.

“Use this to clean it. Try to be thorough, I don’t want it to get infected.” Dudley nods and takes the cloth from me and pulls the remains of my shirt from my back. I can tell he’s trying to be gentle, but it hurts like hell in the places the cloth is stuck to my skin. I hold back a groan.

“Did he- did he really do this?” Dudley asks, wiping blood away as gently as he can. I don’t say anything. He already has the answer, and we both know it. After a couple minutes, Dudley sucks in a gasp. My heart stops.

“What? What is it?” 

“He- you should look for yourself. In the mirror.” I whip around, examining myself the best I can. Without the excess blood, the cuts on my back clearly form a word.

F R E A K

I hold in a scream and turn away from my reflection. 

“Can you-” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. “I need to shower, but can you wrap it up after? I have these.” I hand Dudley an old T-shirt I’ve already ripped into strips.

“Shouldn’t we… I don’t know, put some sort of cream on it? Mum always does that when I’m hurt, so it doesn’t get infected.” I shake my head.

“I can’t. Your mum or dad will notice, and I’ll get in trouble. We just have to wrap it and hope for the best. Is it still bleeding?” Dudley inspects the wound. 

“A little bit.” I let out a sigh of relief. So it isn’t too deep.

“That’s okay. It’ll stop over time.” Dudley nods skeptically.

“I’ll let you shower. You can- er- come to my room when you’re done.” With that, Dudley quietly exits the bathroom.

My back stings horribly as I step into the icy spray. I squirt a small amount of soap into my hand and lather it onto my skin. I don’t know how I’m going to face Lucy tomorrow. I doubt I’ll even be able to escape long enough to stop by. I rub shampoo into my hair. Might as well make the most of this shower.

“Dudley?” I tap lightly on the door before opening it. Dudley is lying on his bed, cell phone in hand. He jumps up at the sight of me.

“That was quick.” he states. I just shrug. “It looks like it’s stopped bleeding.” Dudley grabs the old T-shirt strips and ties them together into a sort of wrap.

“Er… I need to wrap it around your front, too,” he says awkwardly. I just nod and pull the rest of the shirt from my chest. It’s nothing Dudley hasn’t seen.

I face away as Dudley covers the cuts with a gentleness I never knew he possessed.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For doing all of this. I… I appreciate it.” I don’t see Dudley’s reaction, but his hands pause ever so slightly.

“It’s the least I can do, considering.” he replies quietly, tying the end of the cloth into a knot.

“I should go back to my cupboard. In case Vernon wakes up. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” I cover my chest with the torn shirt and turn to face Dudley.

“I could never get in trouble with my mum and dad.” Dudley says rather bitterly. “They’ll always take it out on you.”

“Goodnight, Dudley.” I whisper. “I won’t tell.”

I drift in and out of sleep for a couple hours before a loud tapping sound drags me into consciousness. 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

It sounds like someone’s knocking on the front door. But who could possibly need the Dursleys at this hour? I creep silently from my cupboard and peer out the front window. My features break out into a smile when I see three sets of familiar ginger hair. Before opening the door, I hurry back to my cupboard and throw a sweatshirt over my T-shirt. It wouldn’t do to have anyone find out about last night. Tiptoeing back to the door, I pull it open.

“Ron! Fred, George!” I exclaim. The three brothers greet me with a smile.

“Hiya, Aimee!” Ron says loudly, immediately shushed by his brothers.

“It’s good to see you, Aimee,” the twins chorus. I smile.

“You, too. But what are you doing here?”

“We’re here to bring you-” Fred starts.

“To the Burrow!” George finishes with a beaming smile. I frown.

“Our house,” Ron clarifies with a grin. 

“Where’s your trunk?”

“We’ll put it in the car.” Fred and George say. I frown.

“Wizards drive cars?”

“Well, most don’t, but we kinda… stole Dad’s car to get here. He charmed it to make it fly.” I shake my head. Magic will never cease to amaze me.

“My trunk’s upstairs. Third door on the left; it’s a closet, but you might have to pick the lock.” Fred and George exchange a mischievous glance and tiptoe silently up the stairs.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” I whisper. Ron shrugs.

“We were worried about you,” he explains. “You didn’t… you didn’t reply to any of my letters, and Hermione said she hadn’t heard from you, either.” I look down, embarrassed.

“I- I’m so sorry about that.” Ron shrugs.

“Charlie said you hadn’t been getting any mail. It’s not your fault.” I smile slightly. It seems Tonks came through. A thump comes from above, and I turn to see Fred and George running down the stairs, carrying my trunk between them.

“I think we woke your uncle up,” Fred hisses as he and George rush past us. I glance up the stairs where, sure enough, Vernon is standing, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Shit,” I mutter. “Ron, go start the car. I’ll be out soon.” Ron nods and follows his brothers to the driveway. 

“Uncle Vernon?” I say carefully. He glares at me with a menace that’s all too familiar. “I know you’re angry right now, but just think of it like this! If I stay with my friends, I’ll be gone! You won’t have to deal with me for almost another year! You can have a nice, normal year. I won’t mess it up, I swear. Just please, let me go.” I watch Vernon’s face carefully to gauge his reaction. He scowls, clearly debating if it was worth it to beat me up now.

“Fine. Go.” he concedes finally. “Don’t come back until the summer, and if you mess something up, girl, there’ll be hell to pay when you get back.” It feels as if a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, sir, thank you!” I hurry out the door before Vernon can change his mind.

“Is your uncle okay with you staying with us?” Ron asks when I slide into the back seat. 

“Yeah. He- I’ve told him a lot about you. He knows you’re good people.” The lie tastes bitter in my mouth. 

“Oh good. Mum already doesn’t know we’re here, we don’t need to lie to your uncle, too.” I don’t say anything, leaning my head against the window as George presses a button and we launch into the sky.

  
  


“Should I wake her?”

“Leave her be for now. She’ll wake up when we land, anyway.” 

“Well maybe if you actually knew how to land-”

“I don’t see you behind the wheel of this car, so shut the fuck up.” A soft chuckle comes from the front seat.

“Shut up you two! At this rate, she’ll wake up before we hit the ground!” I open my eyes and push myself into a sitting position.

“No need. I’m awake.” My voice is thick with sleep.

“How was your nap?” Ron asks, laughing. “You looked pretty out of it.”

“Sorry, I… didn’t sleep much last night.” Or any of the previous nights. 

“Brace yourselves, folks!” Fred shouts from the front seat. Ron grabs the back of Fred’s seat, and I do the same with George’s. 

The landing is rough, and I feel one of the cuts on my back reopen. I wince. The twins high five in the front seat, cackling madly. 

“Stellar landing, dear Fred!” George exclaims. 

“You okay, Aimee?” Ron asks quietly. He must have seen my wince.

“Er- yeah. I’m fine. Just… rough landing, is all.” 

“Oi! You have a problem with my driving?” Fred calls from the front. I shake my head frantically.

“N-no, of course not, I-” 

“Relax, Aimee, I’m just messing with you,” Fred says. I breathe a slight sigh of relief.

“Right. Yeah, I knew that.” I reply sheepishly. Fred just laughs.

“You’re a hoot, Aimee.” he says. I’m not really sure what that means, but I’m certainly not going to ask. 

The Burrow is the most interesting place I’ve been, and that includes Hogwarts. While everything at the Dursleys is straight lines and clean floors, the Burrow is a chaotic mess of stone bricks and wooden slats. It looks like the base could once have been a large stone pigpen, but rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it could fall over at any moment. I suspect a large part of it is being held up by magic. There are several chimneys perched on the red tiled roof, and, on a stake in the ground near the door, is a lopsided sign reading “The Burrow.” 

“I know it’s not much-” Ron says, his ears bright red, “-but it’s home.” A smile spreads across my face.

“It’s wonderful.” I sigh. “I love it.”

  
  


If I thought the outside of the Burrow was wonderful, the inside is nothing short of magnificent. Not magnificent in a… traditional sense, but magnificent nonetheless. 

The kitchen is small and slightly cramped, but you can tell it’s well-used, most likely by Mrs. Weasley, if the fudge from last Christmas is any indication. There’s an odd looking clock on the far wall. It has only one hand, and instead of numbers, it has phrases written along the edge like; _Time to feed the chickens, Time to make tea,_ and _You’re late_. 

Stacked on the mantelpiece are books with titles such as _Enchantment in Baking, One Minute Feasts,_ and _Summoning Ingredients: What Not to Do_. 

“Now, we’ll go upstairs really quietly, and wait for breakfast. When Mum calls us, Ron, you come downstairs shouting ‘Mum, look who came last night!’ And everyone will be pleased to see you, Aimee, and no one will ever have to know we took the car.” Fred explains in a hushed voice. 

“Right. Aimee, you can leave your trunk-” Ron turns a sickly greenish color, staring at something behind me.

“Mum!” he squeaks in a panicked voice. The twins and I whip around in sync. I can feel my heart thudding harshly in my chest. Mrs. Weasley stops in front of us, hands on her hips. She’s wearing a flowered apron, her wand sticking out of a pocket. For a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it’s incredible how formidable she seems.

“ _So_ ,” she starts. George gulps audibly.

“Morning, Mum!” he says in a forcibly jaunty voice.

“Do you have _any_ idea how worried I’ve been?” Mrs. Weasley says in a deadly whisper. My heart beats a little faster, and I can feel the sweat collecting in my palms.

“We- we’re sorry, Mum, we had to-” Ron starts, cut off almost immediately by his mother.

“ ** _Beds empty! No note! Car gone- could have crashed- out of my mind with worry- did you care?- never, as long as I’ve lived- you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy-_** ”

“ **Perfect Percy,** ” Fred mutters darkly.

“ **YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!** ” Mrs. Weasley screeches. Even standing a good few inches shorter than her sons, Mrs. Weasley towers over them. I subconsciously take a few steps back.

“ **You could have** **_died_** **, you could have been** **_seen_** **, you could have lost your father his** **_job_** **-** ” While still very frightening, I can’t help but notice the difference between Vernon’s anger, and Mrs. Weasley’s. While Vernon tends to force blame when he’s angry, half of Mrs. Weasley’s anger seems to stem from worry. Where Vernon would say, ‘Could have lost me my job, you worthless freak,’ Mrs. Weasley says, ‘You could have died! I was out of my mind with worry!’

I wonder if this is always what anger is always like at the Burrow.

“Oh, Aimee, dear, it’s so good to see you,” Mrs. Weasley exclaims suddenly, grasping my face with her hands. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll have breakfast ready in a jif- why, you must be starving!” 

Mrs. Weasley sets about the kitchen, waving her wand haphazardly, and occasionally muttering things under her breath like ‘don’t know _what_ you were thinking,’ and ‘I would _never_ have believed it.’ Every now and again she throws Percy’s name into the mix, or Bill’s, or Charlie’s, each one earning a groan from the three boys.

“Now, of course I don’t blame _you_ , Aimee, dear,” Mrs. Weasley says offhandedly, scooping scrambled eggs and sausage onto four different plates. “Arthur and I have been worried, too. Just yesterday we were saying if you hadn’t written Ron by Sunday we’d come and get you ourselves. But really,” Mrs. Weasley scoops another eight or nine sausages onto my plate. “flying an illegal car halfway across the country- of all the irresponsible things- anyone could have seen you-” 

“Mum, it was cloudy!” says Fred, but Mrs. Weasley shoots a glare at him.

“I don’t _care_ if it was cloudy, it was an irresponsible decision, and I expected more from you boys. And shut your mouth when you’re eating!” she snaps. Fred, George and Ron all exchange guilty glances.

“We’re sorry, Mum,” George apologizes.

“But it all turned out alright, didn’t it?” Ron says. Mrs. Weasley softens slightly.

“Oh, dear, I suppose it did.” she says. “But that does _not_ excuse your actions. You were rash and irresponsible, and the fact that it all ‘turned out alright’ doesn’t mean you won’t be punished for such reckless behavior.” All three boys groan. Mrs. Weasley turns to me.

“Now, it’s not your fault, Aimee, of course it isn’t,” she hesitates. “Dear, why aren’t you eating? Go on, it’s not poisoned.” I gulp, remembering the time I was desperate enough to eat food from the trash, leaving myself with a nasty bout of food poisoning. When Petunia found out why I was sick, she started making me pour dish soap on any leftover food we threw away. That was the last time I was that desperate.

I lift my fork and take a hesitant bite of sausage. My mouth waters at the taste. It’s almost as good as the food at Hogwarts.

“This is delicious, Mrs. Weasley,” I say, taking another bite. Mrs. Weasley just waves off the compliment. 

Fred yawns widely. “Blimey, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna head up to-” 

“Oh no you will not!” Mrs. Weasley cuts Fred off, slapping the table fiercely. “You three will spend your day de-gnoming the garden! They’re getting terribly out of hand again!” Mrs. Weasley’s words earn a slew of groans from her sons. 

“Now, Aimee, you didn’t ask them to fly that wretched car, so you can go upstairs to Ginny’s room and take a nap, before the others wake up.” I almost groan, myself. Finally in a place where I can have _fun_ , and Mrs. Weasley tells me to take a nap.

“Oh, I’ve never seen a de-gnoming before, maybe I can help-” But Mrs. Weasley just waves me off as I stifle a yawn. On second thought, she might have a point.

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you dear, but it’s dull work.” She grabs a thick book from the mantelpiece. “Now, let’s see what Lockhart’s got to say on the subject.” George groans.

“Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden; we’ve been doing it since we were little!” I glance at the title of the book Mrs. Weasley grabbed. _Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests_. A photograph of a good-looking wizard with blonde hair and blue eyes winks at us from the cover. Mrs. Weasley gives an audible sigh.

“Oh, isn’t he marvelous,” she breathes. “He knows his household pests, all right, such a wonderful book…” she trails off, eyes glued to Gilderoy Lockhart’s shining face.

“Mum fancies him,” Ron says in a very audible whisper.

“Oh, hush, Ronald, of course I don’t!” Mrs. Weasley insists, but her cheeks are rather pink. “And if you three think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it. But woe betide if there’s a single gnome left in that garden when you’re finished.” The Weasleys groan and slouch out to the garden.

“Er- Mrs. Weasley, could I use the loo?” I ask once the boys have left.

“Yes, of course, dear, it’s right around that corner there, the first door you’ll see.” I nod and thank Mrs. Weasley. A decent sized sitting room is right around the corner, filled with squashy armchairs of a variety of colors and material. The first door on the right is closed, so I knock timidly.

“I’m in here!” shouts a high pitched female voice. My cheeks flush red, even though there’s no one around.

“Oh, sorry,” I say, moving to stand awkwardly to the side of the door. A few minutes later the door slides open and a girl with red hair and brown eyes steps out. She’s wearing a white nightgown, and although she’s clearly younger than me, she’s already a few inches taller.

“You must be Ginny,” I say. “I’m Aimee. I don’t know if Ron said anyth-”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Ginny says brightly. She extends her hand for a shake. “You’re Aimee _Potter_. A celebrity! I can’t believe my stupid brother is friends with a celebrity. Like you said, I’m Ginny. It’s a pleasure.” I smile and shake her outstretched hand.

“Er- the pleasure’s all mine,” I say. “Now I should…” I trail off and gesture awkwardly to the bathroom. Ginny flushes red.

“Oh! Oh, right! I’m sorry,” I smile to tell Ginny it’s okay, then turn to enter the loo. Ginny gasps behind me.

“You’re bleeding!” she exclaims. Merlin’s balls, why did she have to notice? 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. A friend and I were at the park, on one of those carousel things, and-” Ginny has a confused look on her face. “Oh, a carousel’s a piece of Muggle playground equipment. It spins you ‘round and ‘round, and I kinda fell off of it, and scraped my back on the concrete. It’s not that bad. Just a couple scrapes.” Ginny stares at me for a second longer, then nods. 

“Do you want me to call Mum? She’s really good at-”

“No, that won’t be necessary. It’s really fine.” Ginny frowns.

“I mean, if you’re sure-”

“I am.” I say confidently. 

“Er… do you want a different shirt? One that’s not all bloody?” I hesitate. 

“That would be nice.” I say eventually. 

“Wait here,” Ginny orders before rushing up the stairs. She returns minutes later with a T-shirt draped over her arm. 

“Here,” she says, handing it to me. “It’s a bit small on me, so it should fit you.” 

“Thanks, Ginny.” 

The makeshift bandages I had Dudley wrap my back with rather melded to the cuts overnight. I unwrap the bandages, hissing in pain as the partly formed scabs peel off with the fabric. A fresh stream of blood trickles down my back. I take the now bloody shirt I was wearing this morning, and rip it into strips, tying them together the same way Dudley did. I run one of the strips under cool water and use it to wipe the blood from my back.

Ginny’s T-shirt is black with an image of a dragon on the front, and the words ‘I LIKE TO WING IT’ in all caps on the back. I snort. No doubt this used to be Charlie’s.

“ _Molly,_ you can listen to Celestina Warbeck any odd day! _Magic to Muggles_ is only aired on Saturdays!” A male voice sounds from the kitchen as I make my way back from the loo.

“Oh, please can’t we, Mum?” Eagerness colors Ginny’s tone, and I can just tell Mrs. Weasley is going to give in to whatever argument they’re having.

“Oh, alright, dear. Put your podcast on, then.” Mrs. Weasley replies tiredly. A pudgy man with the trademark Weasley hair fiddles with the radio dials excitedly, and a familiar voice comes over the speaker.

“- _Magic to Muggles_ . This episode is sponsored by our magical friends from _Buzzfeed_ , a Muggle entertainment website. For those who have a computer at home, I’d suggest visiting the website and taking the quiz entitled ‘What magical creature am I?’ I believe you will find the results to be quite fascinating. Now, I’m your host; Ledecky Browne, and today’s episode is: Stoves, Ovens, and Heating Charms.” My jaw drops. Ledecky?

“I see the shirt fits,” Ginny says, finally spotting me near the doorway. I look down at the dragon and nod.

“It does. Thank you.” Mrs. Weasley glances between the two of us.

“Aimee, why did you need a new shirt?” she asks. My heart stops. Ginny looks over at me, and I give the slightest shake of my head. 

“I spilled water on it,” I lie. Mrs. Weasley frowns.

“I can cast a drying charm, if you’d like,” she offers. I shake my head.

“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Weasley, but it’ll dry soon enough. It’s just water.” Mrs. Weasley smiles and pats me on the shoulder.

“If you’re sure, dear.” she says. I avoid making eye contact with Ginny, turning to Mr. Weasley instead.

“Hi, I’m Aimee.” Mr. Weasley gives me a confused look. “Ron’s friend.” I clarify, and he nods in understanding. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Aimee,” he says, clearly distracted by the podcast. 

“Is this Ledecky Browne?” I ask.

“Oh! Yes, yes it is. She does this wonderful podcast; _Magic to Muggles_. Have you heard of it?”

“Oh, no-” I shake my head “-it's just- she lives only a few blocks from my relatives’ house.”

“Huh! What a small world. You know; she and our Charlie were in the same year at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, she said she was friends with Charlie. And Tonks, do you know her, too?” Mrs. Weasley huffs from her place at the sink.

“Oh, yes, we know her.” she mutters darkly. “A bad influence, she is. The hair, the piercings…” Mrs. Weasley trails off indignantly. I frown. Tonks seemed really nice when I met her.

“Mum, just because she’s got pink hair and doesn’t feel like a girl all the time doesn’t mean she’s a bad influence,” Ginny argues, the tips of her ears turning pink. Mrs. Weasley scrubs the pan in her hands a little harder, the only indication she heard her daughter. Ginny stands up and sets her plate in the sink.

“I don’t know why you don’t just do that with magic, Mum,” she says. 

“This gives me something to do. It keeps my hands busy.” Mrs. Weasley replies flatly. Ginny rolls her eyes.

“Come on, Aimee, I’ll show you my room.” 

Ginny’s room is on the third floor, with a small window overlooking what appears to be an apple orchard. Ron says his family is poor, but it certainly seems they have a lot of land. The entire room is painted a dark army green. The bed is stuffed into the far corner; under the window, and a small lamp sits atop a little wooden nightstand. A poster with moving images of seven witches covers most of the left wall. The witch in the middle -a tall woman with dark hair- is holding a Beater’s bat and smirking.

“Your Quidditch team?” I ask Ginny, pointing to the poster. She nods.

“Yup. The Holyhead Harpies. Ron loves the Chudley Cannons, but they’re a rubbish team- haven’t won a match in ages. Plus, their uniforms are orange, which is a totally garish color. Hey, it looks like Mum brought your trunk up!” I look over to where Ginny’s pointing, and sure enough, there’s my trunk.

“That was nice of her,” I say absentmindedly, as one of the players just winked at me. She must be the Seeker, judging by the Snitch floating around her head. 

“It’ll be good to have another girl around the house,” Ginny says, flopping down on her bed. “It gets awfully boring around here. Especially when the boys won’t let me play Quidditch with them.” I frown.

“Why don’t they let you play Quidditch with them?” Ginny shrugs.

“Because I’m a girl.” she answers.

“Well that’s a stupid reason.” 

“Yeah, but when I get to Hogwarts I’m going to try out for the team. It’ll really show them, when I make it. I’ve been practicing by myself, when Mum isn’t watching.” I open my mouth to reply when a shout comes from downstairs. 

“ _YOUR SONS FLEW THAT CAR TO SURREY AND BACK, LAST NIGHT!_ ” Mrs. Weasley screeches. Ginny eagerly hops off her bed and hurries to the stair landing.

“Come on, Aimee, the twins and Ron are about to get chewed out!” I follow Ginny to the stairs, but hesitantly. It doesn’t really seem fair the boys should get in trouble just for trying to help me.

“Did you really, boys?” Mr. Weasley’s eager voice filters up the stairs. “How did it go?” There’s a thwapping noise, and a soft grunt of pain from Mr. Weasley.

“I mean, that was very wrong, boys, very wrong indeed.” Muffled protests from the Weasley boys ensue.

“Dad, we had to go get Aimee! It was cloudy! We weren’t even seen!” Ron insists. I tap the banister anxiously.

“Should I go down there?” I whisper to Ginny. She gives me an incredulous look.

“Hell no!” she exclaims. “Why in the name of Merlin would you do that?” I shrug.

“It’s my fault they’re in trouble. They flew to Surrey to get _me_.” Ginny stares.

“Mum and Dad would have gone anyway, if this hadn’t happened first. Ron and the twins knew what they’d be getting themselves into when they went. You’re Ron’s best friend, Aimee.” I feel my cheeks go red and I look down at the banister embarrassedly. Thankfully another rant from Mrs. Weasley prevents me from having to answer Ginny.

“What’s all the noise?” Percy Weasley’s head appears a landing beneath us.

“Fred, George and Ron flew Dad’s car to Surrey and back last night,” Ginny shouts down to him. He twists to look up at us. 

“That was irresponsible.” he scolds. “I knew Dad shouldn’t have fiddled with that Muggle contraption. Hello Aimee. When did you get here?” Percy’s sudden change of subject takes me by surprise, and there’s an awkward pause before I respond.

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, er- they flew the car to Surrey to get me. We got here this morning.” Percy scoffs slightly and shakes his head.

“Mum and Dad said they would go get you Sunday. Couldn’t Ron have waited one more day?” Ginny frowns at her brother.

“Don’t be an arse, Percy,” she says.

“Watch your mouth, Ginevra,” Percy reprimands, disappearing back into his room as Ginny shouts,

“Don’t call me Ginevra!” Mrs. Weasley is still shouting downstairs, and Ginny pulls me back into her room.

“They’re gonna be awhile. Mum really goes off when she’s angry.” Ginny reaches her arm under her bed, resurfacing with a deck of cards in her hands. “Wanna play Exploding Snap?” I glance at the cards.

“I’ve never played before.” I say apologetically. Ginny just shrugs.

“It’s really simple. You’ll get the hang of it quick.” 

Ginny was right. Exploding Snap is not only easy, but it’s a lot more fun than Muggle card games. These cards like to spontaneously explode during the game, and I squeal as the three of hearts I just set down bursts into flames. Ron pops his head through the door around our fourth game.

“Aimee, do you want to go play Quidditch? Fred and George agreed, so with you it’ll be an even four.” I glance over at Ginny, who’s glaring at Ron; the tips of her ears a bright red.

“Yeah that sounds fun,” I say. “Ginny, do you want to play with us?” Ginny’s face breaks into a hopeful smile.

“That’d be brilliant! Thanks, Aimee!” Ron crosses his arms, his ears turning bright red.

“Ginny, y- you can’t play Quidditch!” he sputters. Ginny crosses her arms, too.

“And why the bloody hell not?” she asks, her voice venomous.

“Because- because you’re a girl! And you don’t know how!”

“Aimee’s a girl, and you let her play! And George said all the Gryffindor Chasers are girls, and they’re really good!” Ron harrumphs, clearly at a loss for words. He knows he’s lost the argument. 

“But you don’t know how to play!” he finally says. “You’ve never played before!” Ginny smirks.

“Fine. How about we make a bet. You and I are both Chasers, and whoever scores more goals in fifteen minutes gets the other’s dessert tonight.” Ron smiles, and holds out his hand.

“Deal. I win, I get your dessert, you win, you get mine. Fred and George will be Keepers, and Aimee you referee.” I smile and nod, ninety percent sure Ron has no idea what he’s getting himself into. Ginny shakes her brother’s hand once, and we head out to the orchard.

  
I was right. Ron had absolutely _no idea_ what he was getting himself into. Needless to say, Ginny is quite pleased with herself at dinner as she scoops two slices of treacle tart onto her plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh... I know this was another long wait. I'm sorry! I had planned to post this past weekend, but I had my final meet of the season, and ended up not having the time. But to make up for the wait, I made this chapter extra long. I hope you liked it. I'm actually really proud of this chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know if I made any grammatical or spelling mistakes, and don't forget to review!  
> Stay safe and healthy!  
> Catalina :)


	7. A call home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning; this chapter does have a lot of cursing, so if that offends you I'd recommend just skimming :)

Life at the Burrow is as different from Privet Drive as can be. Where Petunia likes everything in its proper spot, the Weasley’s is a chaotic mess of strange and unexpected. The ghoul in the attic howls and drops pipes whenever he feels the house is getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George’s room are considered perfectly normal. The mirror over the mantelpiece likes to shout insults at whoever looks into it. The weirdest thing about the Burrow, however, isn’t the ghoul, or the mirror, or even the Weasley clock.

It’s how nobody seems to mind my presence. In fact, I’m starting to think they might even  _ like _ it.

Mrs. Weasley fusses over my torn clothes, and tries to force me to eat fourth helpings at every meal (my stomach didn’t like that so much the first couple days). Mr. Weasley likes to sit next to me at dinner and bombard me with questions about a variety of Muggle things, with a recurring theme of rubber ducks.

It takes me seven days to remember Lucy.

  
  


“…Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, and many other online platforms, or websites, are what Muggles call ‘social media.’” Mr. Weasley’s radio crackles, distorting Ledecky’s voice ever so slightly. “Now, I’m going to step back for a few minutes while my baby sister, Lucy, does a short speech about social media, and how it affects her life.”

“I’m not a baby, Ledecky. I’m turning thirteen in October.”

“You’ll always be a baby to me.”

“I’m gonna be a teenager in like two and half months.” Lucy’s voice sounds tired, like it’s lost some of her usual exuberance. I jerk my head up at the sound.

“-Cannons are  _ clearly _ the superior team… Aimee are you okay?” Ron pauses in his usual Quidditch argument with Ginny. 

“I- yeah, I just remembered something. Do you have a phone?” Ron blinks at me, clearly lost. I groan internally.

“Like the Muggle communication device? You put it up to your ear, like this-” I demonstrate with my hands, “-and you can hear another person talk?”

“Oh, a fellytone?” Ron asks. I stare for a second before nodding.

“Yeah. Do you have one?” Ron shakes his head.

“Not in the house. You could ask Dad, though. He might have one in his workshop.” I nod and thank Ron, walking over to where Mr. Weasley is listening intently to Lucy bickering with Ledecky through the speaker.

“Excuse me, Mr. Weasley?” I ask shyly. Mr. Weasley smiles and turns his attention to me.

“What can I help you with, Aimee?” he inquires cheerily.

“Er- I was wondering if you might have a telephone- a fellytone, as Ron calls it- in your workshop?” Mr. Weasley shakes his head sadly.

“Oh, I wish I did. I think fellytones are just so intriguing, don’t you? I’m sorry, Aimee. Was there a reason you needed one?” he asks. I hesitate.

“I remembered a call I forgot to make. To tell a Muggle friend where I am.” Mr. Weasley nods thoughtfully.

“I believe there’s a fellytone-  _ telly-phone _ did you say?- in the village. We’re just outside Ottery St. Catchpole.” I have no idea where that is, but I nod.

“I have to work, but I’m sure Fred and George would be more than willing to Floo you there. There’s a small pub; it’s wizard-run, you can-”

“Sorry, sir, but what’s Floo?” I cringe under the confused stare Mr. Weasley gives me. 

“Oh dear, I forgot you were raised by Muggles. Not to worry, the twins will show you. Would you like to go now?” 

“Er- if that’s alright,” I say hesitantly. “I just need to grab something first.” Mr. Weasley nods.

“You do your thing. I’ll get the twins.” I smile in thanks and hurry up to Ginny’s room. First I poke through old clothes and bits of parchment to find the old sock I’ve turned into a money pouch. After slipping a few quarters in my pockets, I dig deeper in the trunk to find the shorts I wore…  _ that night _ . Sure enough, Lucy’s phone number is still tucked safely in the right pocket. There’s a little reddish-brown stain in the upper corner, and I wince, a blush tinting my cheeks.

“You ready, Aimee?” George’s voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn around, tucking the little slip of paper into my pocket as I do.

“Where are you three off to?” Ginny asks as we walk through the kitchen. Her mouth is full of cereal, and Mrs. Weasley smacks her lightly on the head.

“Chew with your mouth closed, Ginny!” she scolds. Ginny swallows and repeats her question.

“We’re taking Aimee into town.” Fred says.

“She has to make a phone call.” George clarifies. Ginny frowns.

“What’s a phone call?” she asks curiously.

“It’s a Muggle form of communication,” I explain. “You can contact people long distance, and get an answer right away.” Ginny nods thoughtfully.

“That sounds pretty ingenious.” she admits. “Why don’t wizards have something like that? It sounds a lot easier than writing letters back and forth.” I nod in agreement.

“I think wizards are stubborn,” I say, and Ginny laughs. “No, really! They’re so stuck in the ways that they’ve always done things, so set on the fact that Muggles and wizards are separate.”

“You’re so right! Imagine what we could accomplish if Muggles and wizards worked together,” Ginny sighs, shaking her head in mock disbelief. I smile, and Fred tugs my sleeve.

“While the sight of our baby sister flirting warms my heart, we should be on our way.” Fred teases. Both Ginny and I flush crimson.

“I- It’s not-” I stutter.

“Shush, Aimee, no need to deny it. Aren’t you guys just the cutest?” George folds his hands over his heart mockingly. I flush darker.

“It’s not like that.” I murmur. “I’m… not-” I’m not gay. Vernon’s voice flashes through my head.  _ Lesbo. Dyke. Are you a faggot, Dudley? Freak. Whore. _

I press my fingers to my temples, trying to ease a sudden headache.

“We’re just teasing, Aimee,” George says softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “How ‘bout we go now, okay?” I nod weakly, letting the twins lead me to the sitting room.

The Floo network turns out to be a wizarding form of transportation via fireplace. Fred goes first, grabbing a handful of a loose sand-like substance from a small pot above the fireplace, shouting ‘Short Sickle Tavern’ and throwing the powder at his feet. The flames glow a roaring green, shooting to the top of the fireplace. By the time they die back down, Fred is gone. I glance at George anxiously.

“You… er… want me to stand in fire?” I ask nervously. George chuckles lightly.

“You’ll be perfectly fine. Here, I’ll go with you this first time. Grab my arm.” I do as he says, and George uses his free hand to grab a handful of Floo powder. “Now, don’t worry. The flames won’t hurt you.” I step into the fireplace after George, still gripping his arm so hard my fingers are white. The flames flicker around us, but I don’t feel the heat at all. It’s the rather peculiar feeling of standing in a room perfectly adjusted to your body temperature.

“Short Sickle Tavern!” George shouts, throwing the powder down at his feet. I grab George’s arm even tighter as the flames whisk us away from the Burrow. I see images of homes and other fireplaces fly by as we whirl around and around, but none stay long enough to get a good look. After just a few short seconds, George and I shoot out of the fireplace into a dark, dingy tavern.

“Try to cover your scar,” Fred whispers as I push myself off the ground. Something thick and wet trickles down my back, and I realize my scabs broke open again. I pull my sweater tighter and let my hair hang down in front of my face. Fred and George each slip an elbow around my arms and escort me from the tavern before anyone notices a ‘celebrity’ was here.

“So where might one find a ‘te-le-phone’ around here?” Fred asks, carefully annunciating each syllable of the word ‘telephone.’ I glance around. We’re standing on a wide cobblestone street, lined with little shops. The area is mostly empty, except for a few stragglers wearing dark colored robes.

“Er- is there a Muggle part of town?” I ask.

“I think it’s just past Willy’s Broom Rental,” George gestures to a store at the far end of the block. Fred nods his agreement.

“What happens if Muggles wander into the magical part?” I ask as we start towards Willy’s.

“They usually don’t. Wizards use enchantments to keep them out, so if a Muggle happens to come over here, they are automatically deterred.” Fred explains.

“If a Muggle comes within twenty yards of Wizarding Ottery St. Catchpole, they always seem to remember something they forgot at home, and turn around immediately.” George adds. I nod in understanding, pushing my hair over my scar as we pass a wizard in navy blue robes.

“Er- it was really nice of you to bring me here,” I say as we near Willy’s Broom Rental. “You didn’t have to.” Both twins wave off my comment.

“It’s no big deal, Aimee,” Fred assures.

“In fact, I can already tell it’s going to be the most exciting part of our day.” George adds cheerfully. I blush deeply.

“Oh, er, thanks.” I stutter.

I can immediately tell when we pass the boundary from wizard territory into Muggle. On the Muggle side, there are a few cars scattered throughout the streets, and a driver honks their horn angrily at Fred when he wanders into the street. I pull him gently back onto the sidewalk, smiling at the driver to apologize.

“Why did the car make that sound?” Fred asks confusedly. I almost laugh at his expression.

“You were standing in the middle of the street. In Muggle areas, the streets are reserved mostly for cars. The people walk on these smaller strips of concrete-” I gesture at the stone beneath our feet, “-called sidewalks. The driver honked the horn because you were in his way.” The twins stare at me in silence. 

“Muggles are angry people,” Fred mutters eventually. George nods his agreement.

“Let’s just find that telephone and get out of here.” he says. 

“There should be a payphone in the library, if they have one,” I say. Fred and George look at each other and shrug. I sigh internally.

“Excuse me?” I ask a passing woman. “Do you know where the library is?”

“Oh, yes, dearie, you just go straight for a block or so, then take a right on 4th. It’s the little brick building on the corner.” I thank the woman, and she goes on her way.

Stoatshead Hill Library is a small red brick building on the corner of 4th and Zenith. It looks more like an old town home than a library, but an electronic sign planted in the ground outside reads ‘Stoatshead Hill Library: OPEN.’

“You can wait out here,” I say to the twins, who immediately shake their heads.

“First of all, we shouldn’t leave you alone. You’re twelve, and already someone has tried to kill you twice.” Fred starts.

“And second, we have no idea how the Muggle world functions.” George adds. The library sign flashes and changes to show the date, and both twins startle.

“See?” they exclaim at the same time. I sigh.

“Yeah, okay. Try not to draw too much attention to yourselves, okay?” Fred smirks.

“Us? Attention seekers? Never!” I just roll my eyes, and shush the twins as we walk into the near silent library. An older woman with glasses and dyed blonde hair occupies the seat behind the front desk. Her fingers are typing angrily away at her keyboard.

“Excuse me?” I ask. The woman glances up from her computer and pushes her glasses up her nose.

“How can I help you, hun?” she asks politely.

“I was wondering if you had a phone I could use?” The woman smiles brightly.

“Of course! It’s right back there by the computers.” She points to the back of the library where, sure enough, a bright blue payphone is stuck to the wall.

_ Ringggg. Ringggg _ . 

_ Please pick up _ . I pray silently.  _ Come on, Lucy, pick up the phone _ .

“Hello?” My shoulders sag with relief.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Lucy? It’s- it’s Aimee.” 

“Aimee! Aimee, you fucking bastard! Where the bloody hell have you been? You said you’d come back on Saturday. Saturday! It’s been a whole bloody week!” I have to pull the phone away from my ear slightly at Lucy’s exclamation. “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I’ve been? I even went to your bloody relatives’ house, but no one was home! I’ve been out of my mind, Aimee? What happened? Are you okay? You- you’re okay, right?” Lucy's voice wavers at the end and it makes me want to cry. I can’t believe I was so self-absorbed that I forgot to call. I’ve been such an idiot!

“I- I’m sorry, Lucy,” I whisper. “I’ve been bloody stupid, haven’t I?” A tear falls from my eye and I hurriedly wipe it away.

“You could have been dead.” Lucy chokes out, her voice thick with emotion. “Your uncle could have fucking killed you. I thought he did, for a while. I wanted to file a missing persons report, but Ledecky said I shouldn’t. ‘Give it a week,’ she said, and then I could. You’re bloody lucky you called today, Aimee.” My tears fall more rapidly now, and I wipe them away with my sleeve.

“He wouldn’t have killed me.” I whisper. “He wouldn’t have gone that far.” George glances over at me with a questioning look, but I just give him a smile and a thumbs up. 

“What _did_ he do, Aimee?” Lucy asks softly. “What did he do to you that you couldn’t call for _seven_ _days_?” We sit in silence for a few moments before I answer.

“I didn’t come over because my friend Ron picked me up from the Dursleys. I’m staying with him for the rest of the summer. And I didn’t call because he doesn’t have a phone, and I kind of… forgot.” Lucy lets out an audible sigh of relief.

“Oh, so Ron knows about your uncle? That’s why he came, right?” My cheeks redden, even though Lucy isn’t here to see it.

“Er-” I start.

“Goddammit, Aimee!” Lucy exclaims. I flinch away from the phone. 

“I- I’m sorry,” she apologizes, as if she had seen my wince. “I just…  _ fuck _ . Aimee. Are you hurt right now?” I hesitate.

“Just a little.” I eventually whisper. Lucy lets out a stream of air.

“Okay. Okay. What does ‘just a little’ mean?” I subconsciously pull my sweater tighter around my body, but stay silent. 

“Um… okay. I’m gonna need more than that, Ames.” Something deep inside me warms at the nickname. I smile despite the situation. “Are you- are you… bleeding… right now?” Lucy asks when I say nothing. I wipe away my tears for the third time.

“I-I’m not sure.” I choke out. Lucy is silent for a moment, and I can tell she’s trying to calm herself down.

“And your friends don’t know?” she asks eventually, her voice strained.

“No.” I reply quietly. “They don’t.” Lucy chuckles dryly. 

“Bloody hell, Aimee. I wish you weren’t so good at hiding things. I’m going to get Ledecky, okay? Just- hang on a second.” There’s a slight thump from the other end as Lucy sets the phone down, shouting for her sister to come to the phone.

“You okay?” George asks softly from a nearby table, setting his book down. I force a smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” George glances disbelievingly at the tears still dripping from my cheeks, but nods.

“Let me know if you need anything.” he says right as Ledecky’s voice sounds over the phone.

“Aimee? Lucy said you might need some… help.” 

“I- I guess.”

“Okay. Where are you hurt?”

“My- my back.” I whisper, sensing George’s eyes still on me.

“Okay. What type of injury is it? Bruises, scrapes, cuts-”

“Cuts.”

“Right. Are they like, fall off your bike and scrape your knee type cuts? Or something… different?” I glance over at George. He’s flipping the pages of a Muggle magazine, and Fred is nowhere to be seen.

“More like… made with a- a kitchen knife type cuts.” I say as quietly as I can. George doesn’t react, so I imagine he didn’t hear. Ledecky definitely did, though.

“Oh, fucking shit, Aimee-”

“Please don't… make a big deal out of it. It’s really not that bad.” I hear Ledecky take a deep, calming breath. Lucy’s voice sounds softly in the background demanding to know what happened.

“We’ll need to talk about this eventually, Aimee.” Ledecky argues sternly. “But I’ll let it slide for now. Listen, you’re at the Weasleys’, right?” 

“Yeah.” I nod, even though Ledecky can’t see me. 

“Perfect. Tonks and I are coming over for dinner on Monday; Charlie’s gonna be in town. I’ll bring some potions and healing salves when I come.” I feel tears form in my eyes for the millionth time today. 

“Thank you.” I choke out, closing my eyes so the tears don’t fall.

“It’s no problem, Aimee.” Ledecky replies. “I- I need to tell someone about this, you know.” This time it doesn’t matter if I’m closing my eyes; the tears fall rapidly down my cheeks.

“No!” George glances up sharply at my exclamation and Fred pokes his head around the corner of a bookshelf. I shoot them an unconvincing smile and lower my voice. 

“Listen, I need to stay at the Dursleys over the summer. Dumbledore himself said so. It’s safer-”

“Safer? Bullshit! That bludgering old c-”

“Ledecky! Listen to me! Staying at the Dursleys is the only place I’ll be safe from Voldemort. I can’t really explain it, but you have to trust me on that.” Ledecky doesn’t reply; her breathing is the only sign she’s still on the phone.

“Can I have the phone, Led?” Lucy’s soft voice breaks the silence. There’s a shuffling sound, and then Lucy says,

“Aimee? You still there?” I swallow thickly before answering.

“I’m here.” I whisper.

“We’re not going to tell anyone.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Not right now. But you’re going to spend at least half the summer at our house, and I don’t give a flying fuck what your uncle says. Or that intolerable twat waffle of a headmaster.” I laugh weakly.

“I can do that.” I say, envisioning Lucy’s sharp nod at my words.

“Good. Led and I will pick you up from the station, since I’m guessing your deplorable relatives won’t want to waste their valuable fucking time.” I smile despite myself.

“Thank you, Lucy.” I whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Please take care of yourself.” 

“I will.” 

“Will you write me letters when you’re back at school?”

“I will.”

“Okay. Good. I love you, Aimee.” I almost drop the phone.

“No- no, you don’t.” I say harshly. I’m unlovable, a stupid, ungrateful freak. Lucy doesn’t love me. She probably doesn’t even like me.

“Excuse me?” Lucy asks in shock.

“No- I- just- I have to go.” I stutter, slamming the phone back on its hook. I sink to the floor and put my head between my knees, breathing harshly. 

“Aimee?” George’s voice ventures softly. I wipe my eyes and look up embarrassedly.

“Sorry.” I murmur, pushing myself off the ground. George holds out a hand to help, and I take it hesitantly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who were you calling?” 

“I- it was no one. Just a friend.” I answer after a beat of silence.

“You seem pretty upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“Aimee-”

“Is this actually what Muggles think of witches?” Fred strides out from behind a bookshelf, a copy of Hansel and Gretel in his hands. I wipe my eyes one more time.

“Kind of. Muggles have lots of different interpretations of magic. Most of them portray wizards as powerful sorcerers, and witches as evil, child-eating monsters, so they don’t exactly have the right idea.” Fred frowns, looking back at the book in his hands.

“That doesn’t seem right. Why are the witches always the bad guys?” I shrug.

“Welcome to Muggle society.” I mutter. “Should we go?” George eyes me carefully as both he and Fred nod.

“How was your call?” Fred asks on the way out. I shrug.

“Productive, I think.” Fred laughs.

“That’s good,” he replies.

“Thanks for bringing me here.” I say quietly. “It really means a lot.” The twins simultaneously pull me into a hug.

“Anything for the best-”

“-and only-”

“Friend of our Ickle Ronniekins.” George finishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you liked that chapter, I've been planning out the phone call scene in my head for ages. Okay, I hope you won't hate me for this, but I already know it's going to be awhile before I post again. The past couple chapters I've posted way before writing any new stuff, so I only have one more finished chapter to post, and it's not even edited yet.   
> Anyway, I hope everyone is doing really well, and is staying safe in this new quarantine :)  
> Catalina


	8. Monday Night Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some harsh language.  
> As always, quotes are in bold.

“Kids! Dinner!” Mrs. Weasley’s shrill voice travels up the stairs into Ron’s room. Ron jumps off his bed eagerly, stomach already rumbling at the thought of food. Ginny looks over at me and rolls her eyes.

“Coming, Mum!” she shouts.

It’s Monday night.

The delicious aroma of spaghetti bolognese floats from the kitchen to the living room, where Ledecky and Tonks are standing, clearly having just come through the Floo. Mrs. Weasley bustles around them, dusting soot from their robes.

“Oh, Aimee, dear, these are Charlie’s friends from school, Ledecky and Tonks.” Mrs. Weasley gestures to the two in turn.

“Hey Aimee. How’s the face?” Tonks greets. I wince and subconsciously put a hand to my cheek.  
“Er- It’s better, thanks.”

“Wait, what happened to your face?” Ron asks. I blush and look over at Ledecky. She’s gazing at me intently; a fierce sadness in her eyes.

“Dudley rammed a door into my face.” I lie. “Dudley’s my cousin.” I add at Ron’s confused look. Mrs. Weasley glances back and forth between me and Tonks.

“Have you two met?” she asks, gesturing to Tonks and me.

“Just once.” Tonks starts. “Aimee was at Ledecky’s house, and-”

“Aimee and I are neighbors.” Ledecky interjects, earning herself an odd look from Tonks. “She’s friends with my little sister.” Tonks hesitates, but eventually nods.

“Yeah.” she agrees. “We-” But whatever Tonks was going to say is cut off by a loud bang and an ear-piercing screech coming from the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s Errol,” Mrs. Weasley says, darting off to the kitchen and returning with a letter in hand.

“It looks like Charlie won’t be able to make it tonight. One of the dragons, Norberta, set fire to a couple of the cabins and flew off.” she explains with a frown. “He said he’ll probably be spending the night chasing after her.” I look over at Ron, who’s hiding a snicker behind his hands.

“Is that-” I start. Ron nods.

“Turns out Hagrid’s dragon is a girl.” he whispers. “She’s Charlie’s favorite, too.” Tonks winks at us here, clearly having been eavesdropping.

“You two are still welcome to stay, if you’d like.” Mrs. Weasley is saying. Both Tonks and Ledecky nod. 

“Charlie was actually going to give me something, is it alright if I look around his room?” Ledecky asks. Mrs. Weasley nods.

“Of course, dear, go right ahead. We’ll be in the kitchen when you come back down.” Ledecky nods her thanks, and gives me a meaningful look as she starts up the stairs. 

“Er- I’m going to use the loo before dinner.” I say hurriedly. 

Ledecky is waiting on the first landing, just outside Charlie’s room, her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hi.” I greet awkwardly.

“Hey Aimee.” Ledecky replies, her voice tinged with sadness. “Let’s… go to the bathroom on the third floor. It’s more private.” I nod.

“Er- Lucy misses you.” Ledecky starts. “Like, a lot. I think you’re her best friend.” I look down embarrassedly.

“Oh.” I answer. “Doesn’t she have a lot of friends at Stonewall?” Ledecky shakes her head as we enter the bathroom.

“She doesn’t really like to talk about it, but I think most people think she’s a little too much. Too outgoing, too hyper, too confident in herself.” I frown.

“Oh. Is that bad?” I ask. Ledecky shrugs.

“Pre-teen girls are evil.” she laughs dryly. “Okay, show me your back.” I freeze. I thought Ledecky would just give me a potion or two and get on with it.

“W-What?”

“It’s okay. I won’t look at anything, don’t worry. I just need to see how bad you’re injured.” I cross my arms over my stomach self consciously.

“I-I can’t,” I whisper. Ledecky frowns.

“Aimee, I’m not going to judge you. Whatever that bastard of an uncle did to you isn’t your fault.” I still shake my head.

“I-I don’t want you to see.” If she sees, Ledecky will know that I’m a freak, and she’ll tell Lucy and Lucy won’t want to be friends anymore and I’ll have to stay at the Dursleys’ all summer and-

“Woah, Aimee, breathe!” I take a deep breath, and it clears my head a little.

“Sorry.” Ledecky sighs sadly.

“Your relatives are shit, you know that, right?” I shrug.

“They’re trying their best. It’s my fault I’m such a burden, anyway. It’s hard to love a freak. They’re being really generous with-”

“Fuck no! Aimee Potter, you listen to me right now! You are  _ not _ a burden. You are  _ not _ a freak. Your uncle’s an abusive fucktard who deserves to rot in jail for what he’s done to you. I assume your aunt isn’t exactly innocent either.” Ledecky pauses for a response, but I just shrug and look away. Ledecky grabs my hands and forces us to make eye contact.

“Aimee insert middle name Potter-” I snort despite myself and Ledecky smiles. “-you are smart. You are funny, polite, thoughtful, and the best friend I could ever want Lucy to have. Hell, I’ve known you for about three weeks and even  _ I _ can tell. We’re going to talk more eventually, okay? But right now Mrs. Weasley is waiting downstairs with a delicious meal, and I need to tend to your back. Is that okay?” Ledecky’s face is filled with an earnest, pleading sorrow. I hesitantly turn around and slip my T-shirt over my shoulders, holding it tightly to my chest. I try to block out Ledecky’s anguished gasp.

“Oh, Aimee, I-” she starts.

“Please don’t say anything.” I whisper. Ledecky doesn’t respond, and I soon hear her digging through the bag she bought.

“I’m going to clean the cuts before doing anything else.” she says eventually, turning on the tap and running a light blue cloth under the water. A minute later Ledecky places the cold fabric against my skin, wiping away dried blood from the scabs.

“This happened after you went home from our house?” Ledecky asks as she works. I nod, but don’t elaborate. “The night of your… birthday?” I nod again. Ledecky runs the washcloth under the tap again, and it stains the running water red with blood. I wince.

“Fucking shitty birthday.” Ledecky mutters angrily. I don’t say anything. “Okay, I’m gonna apply a cream to make the cuts heal faster. Unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about scarring at this point.” I shut my eyes harshly as my throat gets tight with tears.

“H-how badly is it going to scar?” I whisper. Ledecky’s palms feel cool against my back as she rubs the cream into my skin. Her fingers send tingles down my spine, and I blush unconsciously. 

“Well, I’m no healer, but these are pretty fucking deep.” Ledecky replies, her voice tinted with anger.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur embarrassedly. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can just do it myself. It’s really no big deal.” Ledecky lets out a pained sigh, and her hands stop moving.

“Is that really what you think? Your uncle using a kitchen knife to carve the word ‘freak’ into your back makes  _ me _ uncomfortable?” I shrug, earning another sigh from Ledecky.

“Here, drink this potion. It’ll prevent any infections.” she says after a while, handing me a small vial filled with a murky grey liquid. I take it hesitantly, still holding my shirt to my chest with my left hand.

“It’s not poisoned.” Ledecky assures softly. “I swear it won’t do anything but help you.” After one more glance at the potion in hand, I shrug and down it in one gulp. It tastes like maggots and tuna, and I have to resist the urge to throw it back up.

“Why don’t you want anyone to call the police?” Ledecky asks, scooping more cream onto her fingers. “We could have your uncle locked away, and-”

“I have to stay at the Dursleys. And besides. No one will believe me if I say something.” I interrupt.

“Why?” Ledecky almost shouts. “ _ Why _ do you think you need to stay at that hellhole?” 

“I- it’s a long story. My mother died for me, and when she did, she cast some sort of blood protection spell. The only way I’m safe from Voldemort and his followers is if I’m at the Dursleys. Dumbledore said so himself.” Ledecky slaps her hand on the counter, and I jump.

“Screw Dumbledore!” I quickly pull my shirt back over my head and turn around.

“This is just how it is, Ledecky. Please don’t mess with it and make things worse.” I place my hand on the doorknob and pull the door open a crack.

“Thank you for… everything.” I say quietly before slipping out the door.

“Oh thank goodness, Aimee.” Mrs. Weasley greets when I enter the kitchen. “I was starting to get worried.” 

I smile sadly. She doesn’t even know what to be worried about.

“This smells delicious.” I say, taking a seat between Ron and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley beams and scoops heaps of spaghetti onto my plate. Next to me, Ron is already shoveling forkfuls into his mouth. Ledecky enters the room only three minutes after me, holding two shot glasses with moving images of dragons on the side. 

“Found them!” she says with a bright smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Mrs. Weasley eyes the shot glasses disdainfully.

“Oh dear, I always forget you kids are old enough to drink now,” she passes Ledecky a plate piled with just as much spaghetti as mine.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley. We always drink responsibly.” Ledecky assures with a wink in Tonks’ direction. Tonks snorts into her pumpkin juice, almost spilling the liquid down her front. Mrs. Weasley narrows her eyes suspiciously, but chooses to remain silent. Tonks giggles again.

That night, when I reach for pajamas in my trunk, my hands brush against an unfamiliar material. I push the clothing and loose parchment aside to reveal the bag of potions and salves Ledecky brought today. On the top is a small Post-It note with the words;

‘There’s a phone in classroom 124B at Hogwarts. It’s the old Muggle Studies classroom, but after Professor Burbage switched rooms, people kinda just forgot. Call. Write. Just keep in touch.

Ledecky. 

P.S. You’ll always have a place to stay with us.’

_ Ron, and Aimee if you’re there, _

_ Have you received your Hogwarts letters yet? I just got mine today, and it seems most of the books are by Gilderoy Lockhart. I’ve never heard of him, but our new Defense teacher must be a big fan. Let me know when you’re going to Diagon Alley and I can meet you there. My parents are excited to see it, because Professor McGonagall took me last year.  _

_ What have you two been up to? I’ve been busy with schoolwork, of course, and I’ve done a couple extra assignments for Transfiguration and Charms. I can’t believe Professor Flitwick only gave us one essay! _

_ Hope you’re doing well, _

_ Hermione _

“It’s from Mione,” I say, handing the letter to Ron. He scans it over quickly. 

“Typical Hermione,” he mutters. “Of  _ course _ she’s doing extra work. At least she’s not making us do it, too.” I gulp, my heart beating erratically.

“I haven’t done any summer homework yet,” I whisper. Ron shrugs.

“All I’ve done is the Charms essay. We can work on the others together.” I sigh in relief. Having my stuff locked at the Dursleys all summer, I forgot we even had summer homework.

“How come Mione’s got her letter and we’ve not?” Ron asks. I shrug, but just at that moment, there’s a loud screech from the kitchen. I hear Mrs. Weasley mutter ‘Oh, Errol,’ and open the window to let the bird inside.

“Kids! Your Hogwarts letters are here!” Ron rolls his eyes.

“A  _ minute _ after I say…” he mutters as we enter the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley hands both me and Ron a thick envelope, which I tear open carefully.

**_SECOND YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:_ **

**_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ ** **by Miranda Goshawk**

**_Break with a Banshee_ ** **by Gilderoy Lockhart**

**_Gadding with Ghouls_ ** **by Gilderoy Lockhart**

**_Holidays with Hags_ ** **by Gilderoy Lockhart**

**_Travels with Trolls_ ** **by Gilderoy Lockhart**

**_Voyages with Vampires_ ** **by Gilderoy Lockhart**

**_Wanderings with Werewolves_ ** **by Gilderoy Lockhart**

**_Year with the Yeti_ ** **by Gilderoy Lockhart**

“Merlin, Hermione’s right! This is practically all Lockhart books!” Mrs. Weasley glances at the list over her son’s shoulder.

“Oh, Lockhart’s books are wonderful!” she exclaims happily. Ron groans.

“I bet our new Defense teacher’s completely loony,” he says. “Everyone knows Gilderoy Lockhart is a total fraud.” Mrs. Weasley frowns.

“Ronald!” she scolds. “You know that isn’t true! Gilderoy Lockhart is a very accomplished wizard and author.” Ron makes eye contact with me and rolls his eyes. I bite back a laugh.

Percy appears in the kitchen, followed closely by the twins and Ginny.

“You said our letters were here, Mum?” Percy asks. Even in summer, his prefect’s badge is pinned to his chest, shining as if it was brand new. Mrs. Weasley hands him his letter, and Percy immediately turns to go back upstairs.

“We’re going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, Percy!” Mrs. Weasley calls after her son. Percy doesn’t respond. 

“Pompous arse,” George mutters, grabbing his own letter. Mrs. Weasley gives him a sharp smack over the head in response. I flinch back instinctively, almost backing into Ron. He puts out a hand to steady me.

“You alright?” he murmurs. I nod.

“We should write Hermione back; tell her we’re going to Diagon Alley tomorrow.” Ron gives me one more glance but nods.

“I’ll get some parchment,” he says.

Diagon Alley is even more crowded now than when Hagrid and I went last year. I can feel my heart beating rapidly beneath Charlie’s old dragon T-shirt Ginny gave me that first morning at the Burrow.

It’s been a while since I’ve been around this many people at once.

“Hermione!” Ron shouts, waving wildly at the bushy haired girl standing outside Gringotts. Hermione beams and skips towards us, practically absorbing me and Ron in a bear hug. Ron backs out first, awkwardly muttering he couldn’t breathe. Hermione holds onto me for a few more moments.

“I was so worried,” she murmurs in my ear. I flush bright red.

“Er- I’m sorry, Mione,” I say. Hermione shakes her head.

“Ron told me what happened. I did some research, and I didn’t find anything about house elves going rogue, or stealing people’s mail, but I found some other interesting stuff. Did you know that house elves are practically treated like slaves? They are forced to do their master’s bidding, and if they don’t-”

“Hermione!” Ron groans. “House elves  _ like _ the work!” Hermione frowns, but at that moment a woman with Hermione’s dark skin and eyes puts a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. 

“Hermione, why don’t you introduce me to your friends?” she says kindly. Hermione blushes slightly.

“Right, this is Ron, and Aimee, and, er- this is my mum.” she says shyly. Mrs. Granger holds out a hand in greeting.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you dears,” she says. Gesturing to a light skinned man in an animated discussion with Mr. Weasley, she continues, “I’m Jean, and that little balding man over there is Hermione’s father; Hugo. Hermione’s told us so much about you.” Both Ron and I blush to the tips of our ears. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Granger.” I eventually say. Ron nods his agreement. 

“Aimee, dear, would you like me to make a withdrawal for you, or would you like to come with us?” Mrs. Weasley appears to my right, holding a little money pouch. 

“I can come,” I reply. Mrs. Weasley smiles, turning to introduce herself briefly to Mrs. Granger before leading Ron and me into Gringotts.

“Meet you back here!” Ron calls back to Hermione.

The trolley ride down to the vaults is just as tumultuous and nausea-inducing as last year. But what makes me feel even worse is when we stop at the Weasley’s vault first, where Mrs. Weasley hurriedly scoops six Sickles and a single Galleon into her pouch, effectively emptying the vault. Her face is red as we get back in the trolley. 

When we reach my vault, Ron eyes the heaps of gold in awe. I try to block as much of the crypt from view and hastily shove handfuls of Galleons into my own leather pouch.

Back outside on the marble steps, we break into groups. Fred and George ran into their friends Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, and went off with them while we were inside, Mr. Weasley is taking the Grangers out for tea, and Mrs. Weasley is taking Ginny robe shopping, leaving me, Ron and Hermione alone. 

“Ice cream?” Ron suggests.

“I’ll pay,” I say, remembering the few coins Mrs. Weasley cleared out of her vault. Ron doesn’t even protest.

An hour later, Flourish and Blotts is overflowing with eager young witches and wizards, and a good amount of parents, too. 

“Why’s it so crowded?” Ron mutters. Hermione sighs and points to a sign just outside the door.

**GILDEROY LOCKHART**

**will be signing copies of his autobiography**

**_MAGICAL ME_ **

**today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.**

“We get to meet him!” Hermione squeals. “Oh, I can’t believe it, I mean he’s written almost the whole booklist!” Ron groans.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on him, too,” he says. Hermione frowns.

“Of course not, Ronald. Don’t be silly. Gilderoy Lockhart is a very accomplished author, and anyone should be honored to meet him.” Ron glances over at me and rolls his eyes in a ‘can you believe her?’ kind of way. I grin.

“Come on, let’s get in line. We still have to get our books, don’t we? Look, Ron, your parents are already in line up there,” The three of us squeeze past throngs of wonderstruck teenage girls up to where the Weasleys are standing in line.

“Oh, good,” Mrs. Weasley says when she sees us. She sounds oddly breathless, and keeps patting her hair, and straightening her dress. “I was starting to get worried. Here, we’ll be able to see him soon.” 

Sure enough, Gilderoy Lockhart slowly comes into view, seated at a table surrounded by huge pictures of his own face, winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the camera. The real Lockhart is looking debonair in robes of a brilliant shade of forget-me-not blue that almost perfectly matches his eyes. His pointed hat is set at an angle on his wavy blonde hair. 

Mrs. Weasley lets out a small sigh and runs her hands down her dress again, smoothing imaginary folds in the fabric. 

“Excuse me, out of the way, there!” a short, irritable-looking man with a camera shoves Ron out of the way as he moves back to get a better shot of Lockhart. “This is for the  _ Daily Prophet _ -”

“Big whopping deal,” Ron mutters angrily. Gilderoy Lockhart lifts his head up at Ron’s words, making direct eye contact with me. I cringe back, trying to push my hair over my scar.

“Merlin’s beard. It can’t be… Aimee Potter?” Lockhart dives forward and grabs my hand, thrusting my books and other school supplies into Mrs. Weasley’s hands and pulling me to the front. The crowd breaks into applause. Lockhart forces my hand into a shake and smiles brilliantly at the camera, which snaps about a thousand shots per second, each one sending puffs of purple smoke into the air. 

Lockhart’s hands on me, plus the decreased visibility from the camera have my heart beating a million miles a minute. The camera flashes again and I flinch, yanking my hand from Lockhart’s.

I rub my eyes, I plug my ears, I take deep breaths, but nothing blocks out the sound of the room, and the people, and the camera, and Lockhart-

I bolt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope everyone is enjoying break (if you have it) and I hope you liked this chapter. I'm sorry it was a little shorter than usual, but this was how the scenes went in my mind. Please let me know if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes.  
> Stay safe and warm :)  
> Cat


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